Book 3 Julia
by Veronice
Summary: Harry's illegitimate daughter, Julia, is a very special person, highly intelligent, very talented, and with a worrying desire to be powerful.
1. Chapter 1

_Important Note:__ When Harry was hit by a Death Curse at the age of 16, he was left with a sensitivity to spells. A stunner can kill him, and even a lesser spell can make him very ill. There is also what appears to be minor brain damage acquired when he killed Voldemort, resulting in a tendency to list to the left, only showing when he is tired or ill. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. My stories diverge from Canon from the end of 5th year. _

_Chapter 1:_

The man was standing, holding a woman to him, kissing her passionately. Taller than she, his back and shoulders curved over her. He was naked to the waist, lightly tanned, and well muscled. There was a thin white scar running downwards across his ribs. The woman, although fully clothed, was pressed tight, and his hands wandered over her body. It was a scene of unambiguous sexuality.

The woman's sister, with her fifteen year old daughter, had walked in on them and watched from the door. The couple were still unaware of the intrusion, but both the newcomers were stirred, the girl with feelings that were new to her, the woman with an almost forgotten longing.

But after a moment the woman in her lover's arms noticed the intruders, and pulled gently away.

"Hello, Jean, Jennifer," she said. "I wasn't expecting you."

The man had turned, and was regarding the newcomers. He was not worried at being caught - they had only been kissing, and although he had not yet put on his shirt, Sandra was fully dressed. He was thinking, however, that he had become unwary. He would never have been surprised like this just a few years ago.

There was a bigger surprise in store. Before Sandra could introduce him to her sister and niece, the girl breathed, "Professor Potter!" in a tone of utmost shock. The woman was staring, too, her eyes going to his forehead, where there was an old and now faded scar.

Harry Potter was looking coolly imperturbable, a pose which was supposed to hide his now acute embarrassment.

"Hello, Miss Mason," he said to the girl, and questioned, "Mrs. Mason?"

"Jean Mason," she confirmed. "How do you do, Mr. Potter."

"Call me Harry," said Harry automatically, shaking her hand.

"You might know my husband, Charles. He's an auror."

"I've run into him once or twice." said Harry.

Sandra was regarding Harry with utmost astonishment. "You're a wizard?" she said. "You didn't tell me."

Harry asked, "Are you a witch?" But he was doubtful. She was a teacher at a muggle school. There had been no indication in her home that she was anything but a muggle.

"No," she smiled then, "But my sister and her daughter are."

Harry Potter was twenty-nine at this time, his birthday a few days before. Sandra was a widow in her mid thirties. She was a plain woman by conventional standards, but Harry regarded her as beautiful, as he thought all of the women he went to bed with were beautiful.

Sandra felt herself unbelievably lucky that he had somehow discerned her loneliness, and more, her frustrated desire for intimacy, and struck up a conversation at the beach, where they had met. Even though it was never spelled out, she knew that he was not offering commitment, just sex and companionship, which was a lot more than she'd had since her husband died the previous year. It was the Summer school holidays, and both Sandra and Harry, as teachers, were free to enjoy a beach holiday, which they had been doing.

"We're going to Diagon Alley to get Jennifer's school things," Jean Mason said to Sandra. "We thought you might like to come."

Sandra had been there before, but could not go alone, for entry required floo powder, which didn't work for muggles, the ability to apparate, or a wand to tap a certain brick behind a certain wizard pub. Going to Diagon Alley was a high treat for her.

She turned to Harry. "Please will you come, too? I'd love that!"

Harry was undecided. He liked to please the women he went with, especially as he knew the limitations of what he was offering. It had been over four years since anyone had tried to kill him, and he had begun to lose the habitual caution that had kept him alive through those earlier, critically dangerous years. But he thought she should be warned. "Love, I'd like to come, but people try to kill me now and again."

But Jean Mason, wife of an auror, pointed out that Harry had not been subject to any attacks for years.

"More than four years," confirmed Harry, "but that doesn't mean that I'm not still a target - and last time, they very nearly got a good friend just because he was standing next to me."

But Sandra was looking at him. She wouldn't ask, she had learned not to expect too much out of life, but he knew she very much wanted his company in the exciting place that would never be more to her than a rare treat. He conceded, "If you're truly willing to take the risk, I'd be glad to go with you." Her face lit up, and she went to him, and gave him a hug - the joyful hug of a person being given a rare and unexpected treat.

The Masons, mother and daughter, were almost as excited. Harry Potter was famous, and the prestige of being seen with him was something to be relished. Harry went and finished dressing. His wizard robe was in his bag, to change into at the Leaky Cauldron, where they would leave the muggle world, and enter the more colourful, but more dangerous world of wizardry.

Jean and Jennifer Mason, Sandra and Harry wandered through the fascinating alley, only Sandra still in muggle clothing. They made their purchases, exchanged small talk with people they knew, and looked into Fred and George's Joke shop. Harry was enjoying himself, but in this exposed place, he was wary, always very conscious of the people around them. The comment Harry's presence caused was a thrill to his company, although he ignored it himself. Sandra had just learned that Harry was a wizard - she had not known that he was famous.

They visited the bookshop, Sandra drawing Harry's attention to the section of the bookshelves devoted to Harry Potter. She wanted to buy some, and asked which he would recommend, but Harry only went slightly red and said that they were mostly rubbish. But when she selected two, he gave them a glance, said that they were more rubbish than most, and chose one himself and handed it to her, saying that at least that author actually knew him.

The book was by Susan Bourne, the illustration on the cover showed Harry as a thin and wary looking youth, the same picture that was still on the chocolate frog cards.

Harry was scanning the bookshelves, too. His studies with Dumbledore were continuing, and he was constantly looking for new books on branches of magic that were new to him, and that he found fascinating. He arranged for his purchases to be delivered, and didn't offer to help carry any of the packages the women were laden with. He wanted his hands free.

Jean Mason was beginning to notice Harry's wary alertness, and it was making her nervous. Although she knew theoretically that Harry had been in danger for many years, she had no conception of how difficult it had been at times for him to survive in freedom.

Harry was tense as he exited the bookshop. He had no inkling of any particular danger, but he was beginning to think that he was a fool to be hanging around the alley for so long. "Got everything? Ready to go?" he tried, but although the shopping was finished, Jennifer wanted an ice-cream before they left. Fortescues' had always been a favoured stop for Harry, too, but today he would rather have left the alley behind and retreated into the relative safety of muggle London.

"There are ice-cream shops in muggle London, you know," he suggested.

But most of the pleasure for his companions was in watching the witches and wizards of Diagon Alley, and enjoying the attention they received when Harry Potter was recognised. Only Jean gave him some half-hearted support.

So Harry shepherded his party to a table near the wall, sat with his back to the wall himself, and handed Jennifer some money to buy the ice-creams.

"Yes, Professor Potter," she said, the request instantly calling forth the automatic respectful answer.

"Call me Harry, today, Jennifer." Harry smiled at her for an instant, "We're not in school now," and he was scanning the crowd again. He was getting more and more uneasy.

More people arrived, the tables were filling up, and people were beginning to mill around, until Harry finally stood, leaning against the wall, seeking a better vantage point. Suddenly, he said, "Come on, we've got to go!"

"Why?" asked Jennifer, but Harry could only say, "It's time."

But it was too late. A hush spread over the crowd. Harry was on his toes, straining to see what was happening. He had pulled his wand from his inside pocket and stood tense. Sandra was up, too, holding onto his arm, but he said, harshly, "No, keep away! Stay with Jean!" and he started worming his way toward the front of the crowd where the disturbance seemed to be. He wanted to see, but not be seen.

Three masked wizards held the crowd at bay. Another two held hostages, teenagers whom Harry knew as students at Hogwarts. One wizard was apparently the spokesman. "We want Harry Potter. No-one else gets hurt if we get Harry Potter."

Harry watched from his sheltered position. If there was a chance to strike down these wizards from ambush, he would take it, but with wands pointing at the crowd, and wizards holding children captive, he hesitated to act.

One of the wizards, wand up and at the ready, started to go through the crowd, looking for their victim. He came to Harry, glanced at him, and walked right past, surprisingly not recognising him. He returned to the spokesman, who seemed to be the leader and murmured something.

The spokesman spoke loudly. "Harry Potter appears to have disapparated. These kids will feel the pain for him." One of the teenagers was spun around by the wizard holding him, while another aimed his wand.

Harry stepped forward and said calmly, "I'm Harry Potter."

He was standing, wand at his side, eyes everywhere still, and he observed several aurors, including his friend Ginny, appearing not far away. But they were in the same predicament as everyone else. Not just the two teenagers, but the whole crowd was hostage to the masked wizards.

"That's not Potter," said the wizard who had gone through the crowd, "The scar's in the wrong place."

But the leader was looking more closely. "That's Potter." He ordered Harry to step forward further.

Harry was watching the wizards closely. He had already sent that vicious thought that ensured their punishment. Whatever else happened, these wizards would have a lifetime of nasty, painful, embarrassing boils. Schoolboy trick or not, it was an effective punishment, and Harry could inflict it without any sign of doing magic.

"Let the kids go," he said, in a cold expressionless tone that matched his expression.

One of the wizards almost automatically did as he was commanded, giving the boy he held, a shove back toward his terrified mother.

Four wizards were lined up facing him, a couple of yards apart. One still held a teenage girl. The leader was off to the side a bit.

"What do you want of me?" Harry asked, still in that cold, emotionless voice.

One of the four suddenly gave a high pitched, excited laugh, "You're going to be tortured - to death or insanity, whichever comes first!"

The quieter, more deadly voice of the leader came then, "Put your wand on the ground, and we'll let the girl go and not hurt anyone else."

"Let the girl go first," said Harry.

A woman from the crowd called out, "Harry, what are they doing?"

Harry ignored the call, although he knew it to be Sandra.

"That your girlfriend, Potter?" said the leader. "A muggle?"

He glanced briefly at one of the wizards and said, "Get her!"

The wizard, wand still drawn, entered the crowd and grabbed Sandra by the arm. "You don't have very good taste, do you, Potter? She's pretty ugly!"

Harry said coldly, "Sandra has a beauty you will never know, Billings," because, masked or not, he had recognised that wizard.

Billings said smoothly, "A beauty is she? Well, I'll try her out then. I rather enjoy having muggles. I put them under the _Imperius_ curse and make them strip for me. And they love it. Even when I hurt them, they love it - because I tell them to." And the last words were in a gloating tone that made Harry Potter even more furious.

He hesitated to act. There were too many, and innocent people could too easily be hurt.

"Put your wand down on the ground, Potter, and we'll let the girl go."

He put down his wand, and the girl was released. She ran to her mother, sobbing. But Sandra was still in the hands of her captor, trying hard to be brave, but obviously quite terrified.

"So what next?" Harry asked coolly.

The leader threatened, "If you disapparate, we'll kill half the people here, especially including the girlfriend - after enjoying her of course."

"I won't disapparate," said Harry, as calmly as ever, but the scar on his forehead was blazing bright, a sure sign of danger to anyone who knew him. He moved smoothly and still warily to the side, so that no-one was behind him.

The aurors started to close in, but one of the wizards, watching them, raised his wand at the crowd, so that they came to a halt again. Harry was now without his wand, and rather surprised that the wizards were still so cautious. But when Billings raised his wand and started to utter the brief word of the stun spell, there was no more time.

Without warning, or any indication that he was doing magic, Harry rendered unconscious the wizard holding Sandra. The wizard dropped and Sandra ran. Harry had already dived to the side as a stunner shot toward him. His wand flew to his hand, and he whipped it in a sideways motion, four wands flew into the air, he whipped it back again, and the wizards were unable to disapparate, and a third time, and three of the wizards dropped to the ground, stunned, joining the one who was already unconscious.

The wand stopped, pointing directly at the leading wizard. This was the self confessed rapist, now covered by Harry's wand, held stock still, and aiming at him. "You like to rape muggles, do you?" said Harry, in a quiet deadly tone, and the tip of his wand dropped, aiming now at the man's groin, "Well, you'll never do it again."

The man looked incredulously at him, and then grabbed at his groin, shrieking, _"No!"_

"You will never rape a woman again," repeated Harry, and he left the man whimpering, "No, no, no," but he was a rapist, and the punishment was just.

There was a stir to the side, Harry whipped around, and used his free left hand to hit a Death Curse straight back to the wizard who had sent it. The wizard dropped, but now a new light came from the direction of the crowd, and Harry whipped around again to face it, wand raised, scar blazing, ready and prepared to kill. The photographer took his picture, Harry barely managing to stop himself stunning the man.

Wand still raised, Harry stepped back and around, searching the surrounds for more enemies.

The aurors were standing stock still, being very careful not to appear as a threat. Suddenly Sandra threw herself into Harry's arms and he held her with his left arm, while still holding his wand raised, eyes everywhere.

Mark Johnston, the auror whom Harry knew, slowly approached. "Harry, it's all over. Please put down your wand. You're making us nervous."

Harry's eyes flicked over the aurors. Dawlish was not there. He lowered his wand to a discernible lessening of tension from the aurors.

Four attackers stunned, one turned into a eunuch, one dead. One muggle lady hysterical in Harry's arms. He took her back to his position with his back to the wall, wand still held in his right hand, but uttering soothing words and holding her tight with his left arm. Charlie Mason, the auror, went to his wife and daughter, huddling together in the crowd. Harry murmured to Sandra, who was still sobbing, and she left him to join the others.

He wanted to look at the faces of his attackers. Ginny and Mark were dealing with the four lying stunned, unmasking them and tying them up. Another auror whom Harry didn't know, was tying up the whimpering ex-rapist. Two more stood by the body.

Harry went to the body first, wand still held in his hand. The aurors were looking at him rather cautiously. They had never seen anyone fight like that - so blindingly fast that it was hard to know just what had happened.

Harry raised the man's mask, and looked at him carefully. Then he went to Ginny, who was holding one of the unconscious wizards, "Can I just have a look at him?"

She paused, allowing him the look he requested. Mark, also holding an unconscious body, followed her example, waiting for him to have a close look at the unmasked wizard, before disapparating with him.

Two more wizards still lay stunned on the ground, and Harry methodically went from one to the other, checking their faces. He had an excellent memory for names and faces, and would know them again.

He returned to the Masons, and to Sandra, who came again into his arms. He dropped a kiss onto her head, and said, "How about we go, love. The aurors will look after the mess." He turned to Mason, and asked, "Is it possible for you to take Jean and Jennifer home?"

"Yes, but - you can't just _go! _There are questions to ask!"

"Your lot saw as much as I did, and there are plenty of witnesses. Sandra's upset, I want to take her home."

Sandra still sobbed in his arms, although nearly all the wizarding crowd, a tougher breed, had calmed, and were now talking excitedly among themselves, even those teenagers who had been held captive.

Other aurors surrounded him now, which was beginning to make him nervous. Both Ginny and Ron Weasley were close friends, and they were aurors, and there were several others whom he knew and liked, such as Mark. But he had also had to fight for his freedom when aurors had been sent against him, and he knew he had enemies in their ranks. So now he murmured to Sandra, "How about we go home? I can apparate with you."

Sandra was longing to be away from this place now, she was not accustomed to threats of torture or to the sight of sudden death, and was willing to trust Harry, so she agreed, and the two silently vanished, to the annoyance of the aurors surrounding them.

They were left alone that afternoon and through the night, while poor Sandra tried to come to terms with her ordeal. She slept badly, and he held her throughout the night. Once, she roused him by screaming out in a nightmare. Harry well understood nightmares - he was subject to terrifying nightmares himself, although they were less frequent now than they used to be.

He was not surprised at breakfast the next morning, therefore, when she told him she didn't want to see him again - that his world was too dangerous for her. He didn't argue. He agreed. He would never have started going out with her if he'd known that she was linked to the wizarding world. That world had never before threatened the muggle women he dated.

He made sure to pick up the few things he had with him, and went to Sandra for a final embrace.

"Harry," she said, "Did you mean what you said?"

"Mean what?" he asked.

"You said to that wizard that I was beautiful."

"I meant it. You are beautiful. And I put you in danger - I'm so sorry."

But then there was a knock at the door, and Sandra opened it to see two wizards. Harry was on his feet, instantly wary, but relaxed when he saw that it was Ron and Mark, aurors maybe, but friends.

"Sandra Gilmore? We've just come to see Harry."

Harry joined Sandra at the door, and Mark said respectfully, "Will you come to the Ministry, Mr. Potter? Madam Bones wants to talk to you about yesterday."

"Certainly," said Harry. "Now?"

But his face was coolly inscrutable, and Ron, knowing him very well, wondered if he still thought he was somehow in danger. Harry gave Sandra a final kiss and squeeze of the hand, and said simply "Good-bye, love."

They apparated into the large atrium of the Ministry, Mark explaining that this was the only part of the building not protected by anti-apparation charms. Mark and Ron led the way to a conference room, and were soon joined by the Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones, Chief Auror, Alec McVeigh, plus Charles Mason, and another middle-aged wizard who was introduced as Barry Alston. Harry had reason to distrust the Ministry of Magic, but Ron was still there, so it didn't look like they planned on trying to arrest him.

"You had quite a time yesterday, Harry." Madam Bones started. "Alec here wants to ask you a few questions."

So McVeigh quizzed him about the incident the previous day, although it soon became clear that Harry had little to add they didn't know.

Madam Bones put in, "You killed again."

"I only killed the one who threw a Death Curse, and you said that was all right."

"What about the one you castrated?"

"He was a rapist," said Harry, as if it was self evident that rapists should be castrated.

Madam Bones hid a smile. She rather agreed with him in this case. But she said, "There's a lot of ill feeling. You're going to have to face a disciplinary hearing."

"Why?" asked Harry. "I've done nothing wrong."

Madam Bones leaned forward. "You can't go taking the law into your own hands."

"But they were attacking me - and all of the people there, come to that! What was I supposed to do?"

Barry Alston leaned forward, saying in a hard voice. "You attacked a wizard, and caused terrible damage. It was not justified."

"You mean the one I castrated? He was a rapist - he boasted of it. Of course it was justified!"

Madam Bones said again, "You can't go taking the law into your own hands - you should have left it to the Ministry to punish him for his crimes."

Harry was sitting back, frowning. "You think I should _not _have castrated him?" he asked, still apparently feeling that he had only inflicted the obvious and merited punishment.

Madam Bones tried again to explain. She liked Harry Potter, and didn't want to see him in trouble. "It was not your decision to make. It was up to the Ministry."

Harry was still frowning, looking at Madam Bones, whom he respected, and who had always been fair and reasonable. "And I'm in trouble because of Billings?"

"There will be a disciplinary hearing."

Harry was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Would it help if I fixed him then?"

Everyone stared at Harry. It was Ron who finally said, "You can fix him?"

Harry said, "Yeah, I reckon so." He was beginning to be uncomfortable, and rose and leaned against the wall, looking coolly remote.

Alston protested, "How can you possibly fix him? You can't restore what was taken away!"

Harry shrugged, and merely repeated that he thought he could probably fix the man.

Madam Bones finally took a deep breath. "Well, this changes things." She turned to McVeigh, and asked, "Would it be better to take Harry to Azkaban to see Billings, or bring the man here?"

Harry intervened with the flat statement. "I'm not going to Azkaban!"

Ron said, "How about me and Mark go and get him, bring him here?"

McVeigh put in, "He's a dangerous man. I'll put together a team myself to fetch him." He stood, "You and Mark had best go about your duties. Charles, you stay here with Mr. Potter," and he left the room.

Amelia Bones stood, too. "Let me know when you bring Billings - I'd like to see this."

Alston shot a venomous glance at Harry, and he, too, left.

Harry Potter and Charles Mason were left in the room. Harry was still leaning against the wall, looking coolly imperturbable, not speaking, while Mason shifted uncomfortably in his chair. There was a knock at the door, and a wizard arrived with some refreshments. Mason picked up a teacup, "Harry? How do you like it?"

Harry declined. Mason helped himself, still sitting at the table. Mason was looking at him. He said, "Thank you for not telling Jean."

Harry still said nothing, but the awareness was strong between them. When Harry was just seventeen, aurors had tried to take him prisoner.

Mason tried again, "You did punish me, you know - those boils - I couldn't walk for a fortnight. One was right between the legs!"

Harry said in a level voice, "The idea was to keep me a prisoner, weakened and helpless - presumably until either me or Voldemort died." As he spoke, there crossed his face an indication of the absolute horror he felt at the thought of such an imprisonment, and Mason knew that there could never be any friendship between him and this brilliant wizard, whom he admired so much. So they waited.

At length there was a disturbance at the door, and four tough looking aurors escorted Billings into the room. Billings' hands were tied, and he looked miserable. Harry straightened and pulled his wand from his pocket, ready to get the job done. Billings shuddered and pulled back with a look of sick fear. It appeared that no-one had told him why he had been brought from his prison.

More people were entering. Madam Bones returned, and three elderly witches entered, and another old wizard, whom Harry didn't know. There was also a mediwizard. Alec McVeigh and Barry Alston had also returned. Harry looked questioningly at Madam Bones, who introduced the newcomers - they worked in the Department of Mysteries, and had asked to witness such a unique piece of magic.

Harry was feeling distinctly uneasy now - he hated putting his skills on display. He said, "It may not work - and there'll be nothing to see anyway."

The room was crowded, and McVeigh nodded for two of the aurors who had escorted Billings to take station outside the room.

Alston directed the aurors to place Billings in front of Harry. Harry still had his wand in hand, and he raised it. There was a sudden scatter of men behind Billings, as they quickly moved to the side, away from any possible dangerous spell. But Harry only spoke coldly and quietly to Billings, who was apparently frozen to the spot. "You will never again take a woman or girl against her will. You will never be able to function as a man, except with a woman who comes to you of her own free will. You will not be able to function as a man with anyone, male or female, whom you have drugged, or threatened, or rendered helpless with a spell. You will never raise a hand or a wand against any man or woman in violence."

This was the same sort of hypnosis laced with magic that had once been used on Harry. He raised his wand a touch higher, and Billings apparently felt something, because he whimpered and clutched at his groin as he had the day before.

Harry held his wand raised, and a tingling of magic could be felt in the air. It lasted only about three minutes, while Billings whimpered, tears in his eyes, and everyone else watched, fascinated.

At length, Harry was finished, and he restored his wand to his pocket, and said, quite casually, to Madam Bones. "OK, he's fixed."

Madam Bones instructed the mediwizard to check the man out in another room, and the aurors whom Harry particularly distrusted, including Bruce O'Brien and John Dawlish, left the room. But Harry had displayed his unique abilities, which he normally avoided, and he still maintained the cool remote look that he habitually wore when he felt threatened. To others, however, it only made him look daunting, even dangerous.

There was a silence, as everyone waited for the mediwizard to return. Most were staring at Harry, who looked increasingly remote.

The mediwizard returned, looking slightly stunned. "He seems fine - perfectly normal. They've taken him back to Azkaban."

Harry looked at Madam Bones, "Finished with me, now?"

"No, Harry, please wait."

Harry's eyes were flicking over the company. There were still far more present than he felt comfortable with.

Amelia Bones was studying him. She wanted to quiz him about his magic, but he was looking so unapproachable that she was reluctant to even raise the subject. So she rose and dismissed all but the three witches and the wizard who worked in the Department of Mysteries, and then ordered more tea and coffee, which arrived almost immediately.

"Please sit down," she said to Harry, and the Minister for Magic herself served him with coffee, and handed him a bun on a plate. Harry was suddenly hungry. Mostly he found his magic perfectly effortless, but on rare occasions, especially when healing, he would find himself doing something that left him hungry and tired. So he dropped his cool veneer and started enjoying the very good morning tea provided.

Amelia Bones was thinking that he really wasn't so very old after all, and she made casual conversation, designed to set him at his ease. The others, although consumed with curiosity, quickly understood what she was trying to do, and joined in.

Outside, word had spread throughout the Ministry, where so many witches and wizards worked. Ron and Ginny both heard, and, like many others, wished they could have been inside that room. Alec McVeigh had stationed two experienced aurors outside the room, partly to prevent unwanted entries, and maybe partly because he viewed Harry Potter as potentially dangerous. There were far more employees than normal wandering the corridors and gathered in knots in the foyer, waiting and hoping to see the famous wizard, whose powers were unique.

The casual conversation dried up as Madam Bones sat quietly studying Harry, who was eating his third bun. Without preliminaries, she asked, "Well, Harry, how did you do it?"

Harry abandoned his bun. He'd been expecting this inquisition, and knew perfectly well the purpose of the morning tea, and the small talk. But he didn't understand his magic himself. Even if he'd wanted to try and explain his magic, he couldn't. So he shrugged his shoulders, and offered, "I used to have a job, once, that included castrating bulls. Men are not much different."

The women present were amused, the elderly wizard, less so.

"Yes, but how?" pressed the wizard. Harry looked at him, and the man was more specific, "How exactly did you castrate that man, and especially, how exactly did you fix him?"

Harry was drumming his fingers on the table, looking at the window, through which the sun appeared to be shining. But it was not a real window, and it was overcast outside in any case. At last he gave as much as he could. "I pointed my wand and thought what I wanted."

"Yes, but what spell did you use? When you fixed him, what incantation did you use?"

Harry shook his head. "I can never remember incantations, only the simple ones I learned as a kid."

"So how did you fix him?"

"I told you."

The wizard still pressed. "Did you think any words?"

Harry said, as he stood up, as if to indicate that the interview was over, "I can't remember - I might have thought of something like _Be fixed._ That's all I can tell you."

The learned witches and wizards who worked in the Department of Mysteries gave up.

Harry turned to Madam Bones, "Finished with me, now?" She assented.

"Is there still to be a hearing?"

"I'll let you know."

He picked up the small bag with his things and started toward the door, but Madam Bones said, "Wait. I'll come with you."

As they left the room, John Dawlish and Bruce O'Brien, who had been stationed outside the door, started to fall into line behind them. Harry wasn't having that, and turned with his back to the wall, again looking coolly daunting. Madam Bones was looking at him, puzzled. Dawlish and O'Brien hesitated, and Harry spelt it out. "You can't be trusted. I don't want you behind me."

Madam Bones gave a jerk of her head, and the pair turned and walked briskly off. Harry resumed his walk down the corridor toward the foyer, but his eyes were wary and his right hand was free.

"A bit paranoid, aren't you, Harry?" said Madam Bones.

"That's right," casually agreed Harry, "They call me Mad-Eye Potter in certain circles, after Moody, you know. But I'm twenty-nine years old, and I was supposed to never reach my eighteenth birthday. And anyhow it's not paranoia if people really are out to get you!"

They turned the corner into the atrium, and Ron and Ginny were waiting for them. Amelia Bones saw Harry at last with a genuine smile on his face.

"You did it!" said Ginny.

Harry shrugged, and Madam Bones suddenly noticed that even now, his eyes were everywhere. There were many people around. She began to have an inkling of what his life had been.

Ron had a newspaper in his hand. Ginny asked Madam Bones respectfully, "Have you finished with him? Can we show him this?"

Amelia Bones smiled her assent, and Ron handed the paper to Harry. "Look at the front page!" he said, and Amelia, who had already seen the newspaper photograph, watched him to see what he would say. The photograph took up the whole of the front page - Harry Potter, as the photographer had caught him yesterday - cloak still swirling, as he spun around, wand raised, scar blazing, and looking like he was about to kill!

Harry looked at it, surprised to see himself looking so utterly dangerous, but his only remark was that the photographer was lucky not to have found himself stunned!

"Where are you going now, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Home - unless you can join me for lunch or something."

Ron looked at his sister Ginny. "I've organised an early lunch hour," said Ginny. "I'd love to join you.

Ron added, "I can probably join you in a half hour."

"Great," and he lowered his voice before naming a muggle pub they all knew. He took his leave of Madam Bones, and he and Ginny disapparated, while Ron went back to his desk to complete a report.

Ginny had been widowed some months before. The quiet, studious man she had married had developed a passion for muggle electricity, and had electrocuted himself trying to wire up his house. They had only been married four years, and had a little boy of three, called Adam.

Harry and Ginny saw each other rarely. But watching him in action the previous day, Ginny had remembered how she had once felt for him. She had loved her husband, and been happy with him. But if things had been different - it might have been Harry.

Harry and Ginny still cared deeply for each other, but conversation was awkward until she handed him the paper that Ron had passed on to her. Harry, with an awareness of the muggles all around, quietly worked a little magic, and the moving photographs froze into stillness. And then he carefully read the article. Since he had been accused of being a Dark Wizard and had nearly been locked up for it, he made sure that he was aware of the stories that were circulated about him, even if often there was little he could do about it. But the article seemed a reasonably accurate account of what had happened, even if rather over dramatic in his eyes. Much was made of his lightning speed and that he had managed to defeat the wizards without anyone being hurt.

But when it referred to the castration of the wizard, the tone changed and became condemnatory. It spoke of arrogance and unjustified cruel punishment. Harry asked, "What do you think, Ginny? They all seem to think I did the wrong thing - but he was a rapist!"

Ginny shrugged, "I don't know - it seems fair enough to me, wizards do awful things sometimes when duelling, and this was the same as a duel, just five against one - or six to one, really!"

"Do you know if that last one, the one I killed - was he with the others, or was that a separate bit of enterprise?"

"According to what I heard, he was not with the original five."

"At Ron's wedding, I was told that about forty wizards were actively trying to kill me. It seemed too many to do much about at the time, but with one thing and another, there can't be more than about twenty-five left - and most of those have probably abandoned the idea. I must be getting safer!"

Ron arrived then, and after providing himself with a beer, asked about Sandra. "How's she doing? She seemed very upset."

"She was terribly upset. I don't know why I was so stupid. I never should have gone with them to a wizard area!"

"She'll get over it," said Ron.

"I hope so," said Harry. "Ask Mason for me in a week or two, would you? She's finished with me, but I want to know that she's all right."

Ron agreed, and they talked generally for a while, before Ginny and Ron had to leave.

Harry was left behind, feeling lonely and depressed, still keeping a careful eye all around. He was blaming himself for becoming incautious, and allowing an innocent muggle to come into contact with his dangerous world.

But his philosophy of life didn't really include time spent regretting what could not be helped, and he eventually scanned the surrounding muggles with a different aim in mind. When he didn't find what he had in mind, he slipped out of sight and disapparated, reappearing at a beach he knew - not the one where he had met Sandra, but another.

After a long swim that satisfactorily stretched muscles and left him invigorated, he came back to the beach, and sat down on the sand, discreetly studying the people around him. As usual, he found what he wanted, and spent the rest of the afternoon, and part of the evening enjoying himself enormously with a new temporary girlfriend, before returning to Hogwarts.

***chapter end***


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling _

_Chapter 2:_

When Harry appeared at breakfast at Hogwarts the following morning, he was expecting comment about the incident in Diagon Alley, but there was little said. The professors had discussed it the previous day, after seeing the details in the newspaper, but they expected that Harry would be happier to have it forgotten as soon as possible. Some of them kept that photograph, though - it was very striking.

Harry was talking with Dumbledore about something he'd read in a recent book, when the mail arrived with an official looking envelope from the Ministry. The Disciplinary Hearing was set for the following Friday.

"What is it?" asked Snape.

"I'm in trouble," said Harry, "I just don't know how much!"

"For that castration?" asked Dumbledore.

"Apparently - though I don't really understand why - he was a rapist, and anyhow, when I saw they were a bit cross about it, I fixed him."

This caused a stir. The repair job had not been in the paper, and restoring lost human parts was generally regarded as impossible.

The half dozen professors present were all staring, putting Harry on the spot again.

"How?" finally asked Professor McGonnagal.

"That's what _they_ wanted to know - _I _couldn't tell them!" He rose from the table, as always feeling uneasy when his methods of magic were questioned. The next thing anyone saw of him he was on his broomstick, hurtling at full speed in a dive straight toward the ground. He apparently pulled up though, because he was present at lunch time.

Harry was fretting about Sandra. He was not heart broken - although he invariably became fond of the women he enjoyed, they were always short-term. But Sandra had suffered as a direct result of knowing him, and he felt very bad about it.

He couldn't change things that had happened, but he did make a special trip to a place in India that he knew, where they made especially beautiful saris, and bought a couple to send to her. One was his own choice, but he knew enough about what his friends thought of his taste, to take advice about the other. So Sandra received one lovely sari, one interesting one, and a nice note, apologising again. She treasured the gift, but even more, she treasured the memory of that moment when he had declared in front of a crowd of people that she was beautiful.

Maybe she carried herself with a little extra pride because of that, as it was not long before a man she had known for many years finally opened his eyes to her, and she remarried.

Harry didn't tell anyone about this trip to India. One of his unique abilities was to apparate far further than anyone else could. Long ago, he had been told that most competent wizards could apparate some hundreds of miles, but that thousands of miles were out of the question. But these sort of rules didn't seem to apply to him, and he could apparate about the world whenever he chose.

Friday was only a few days away now, and he was anxious. He found it difficult to think that he had done anything wrong by castrating a rapist, and it was in a dueling situation anyway, when sometimes terrible things are done, as Ginny had said. But Harry had been threatened with imprisonment before on feeble grounds, and once on no grounds at all.

There was not much he could do about it. If he wanted to stay and work at Hogwarts, he had to face that hearing. He wasn't planning on going to prison, though, whatever happened. For the first time in years, he practiced his last ditch escape strategy, guessed at only by Professors Dumbledore and McGonnagal, who had taught him to become an animagus before he left school. He rarely did it - only for practice now and then, because it made him ill. But when Professor McGonnagal saw a hawk fly into the air from the Dark Forest, and later saw Harry looking pale and ill, she knew he was worried, although no-one else thought that he had much reason to be.

Harry had spoken seriously to Dumbledore, who thought that probably a fine would be the maximum punishment that he was likely to receive, and also could tell him that no full trial was planned, as Dumbledore was a member of the Wizemgamot and would have to have been informed.

Wednesday, Harry made his regular duty visit to St. Mungo's wizard hospital, where he healed several people who had been suffering under spells that no-one else could break. Afterward, as usual, he had lunch with Hermione and Ron. He asked Ron if he had heard anything of how his act was regarded, but Ron said that it seemed equally split - to some people he was a hero, to others he was a monster. Often, the split seemed to be on sex lines, most women thoroughly approving, while men were apt to condemn.

On Thursday, he visited some friends, Rachel and Edward Moore, and their daughter, Julia, who was genetically Harry's daughter. It was early to make this regular visit, he'd seen them not long before, but he had it in mind that he might have to leave England, possibly in a hurry, if his hearing went the wrong way.

Julia was seven now, a child who already had an unusual beauty and a remarkable intelligence. Aside from black hair and green eyes, she seemed to have taken little from Harry. But neither did she appear to take after sensible, straightforward Rachel. She had become more reserved as she grew older, but she watched people - her slanting green eyes often rather calculating. Rachel was having difficulty with her. She did as she was told only when it suited her, but worse, she was often cruel to her little brothers, Edward's sons. But Julia thought her 'Uncle Harry' was wonderful, and he never saw that side of her, and Rachel didn't have the heart to tell Harry that his beloved daughter was less than the angel he still thought she was.

When the time for the hearing came, Harry's clothing concealed a well filled money belt. He also carried a small bag with a few extra items suitable for travelling, although he was prepared to abandon that if he had to. He was not prepared to undergo even a short term of imprisonment.

He'd warned Ginny and Ron to keep right away if he had to fight his way out. They'd been shocked, and asserted strongly that that would not be necessary, and that, even if he was arrested, he could not possibly get more than a very short sentence, which it would be better to serve. But Harry would only say that he'd try not to hurt anybody. Ron and Ginny had managed to get themselves assigned to jobs a long way away, rather than possibly impede Harry escaping.

10.00am, and Harry found himself met with considerable courtesy, but he was escorted by two aurors, neither of whom he knew. They took him to a large room, where a centrally placed chair faced desks with five witches and wizards waiting to sit in judgement. Amelia Bones was in the central seat, and the others included Barry Alston, whom he had met the other day, and John Perceval, whom he also knew. Madam Bones introduced him to the remaining witch and wizard. Two aurors stood to the side, and a secretary had a chair a little behind, with his own separate desk, and paper and pen.

The aurors tensed as Harry was asked for his wand. This was a risky moment with a dangerous fighter like Harry. But Harry had been warned by Dumbledore, as well as by Ron and Ginny, that his wand would be taken from him, to lie upon the table, until the trial was over. If things went well, it would be returned. So his face was imperturbable as he drew his wand from his pocket, and he apparently didn't notice the tension around him, as the secretary cautiously took it from him and laid it down on the table in front of Madam Bones.

The questioning began. Harry was cool, but cooperative, as they took him through the events of the day. He was asked for the reason he had exacted such a terrible retribution, and Alston accused him of doing it because his girlfriend was insulted, rather than the reason asserted.

Madam Bones may have been on his side, as she reminded everyone that Billings was no longer a eunuch, so no permanent harm had been done.

When Alston took over the questioning, events took a more dramatic turn. It appeared Alston thought that the punishment greatly exceeded the crimes admitted to, even though Harry had told them as near as he could remember, exactly what the wizard had boasted of. Two other witnesses were called in, and they corroborated his account.

Alston made a speech condemning the action. He stated that Billings had only admitted to a spot of muggle-baiting, that he had not raped witches, which would have been much more serious, of course!

Harry abruptly stood, facing Alston, who recoiled.

"Are you saying," Harry said incredulously, "That raping a woman is not very serious, just because it's not a _witch?"_

"A bit of muggle-baiting, that's all - the penalty is a fine."

Harry still stood, and that forehead scar was standing out again, as his anger rose. "Madam Bones, is this true? - That rape is viewed as trivial as long as it's not a witch?" Madam Bones had to admit that it was true.

The aurors approached, and one said firmly, "Please sit down, Mr. Potter." Harry was beginning to be very angry now, but he remembered that his freedom was at stake, and sat down.

Alston gained confidence. "That poor wizard, Dean Billings, even if he appears to have suffered no permanent physical injury, will have been mentally scarred by the dreadful thing that was done to him. After all, most of us have indulged in a little harmless muggle-baiting at times, especially when we're young!"

Harry looked very coldly at him, "And have _you_ raped muggle women?"

Alston laughed unconvincingly, "Oh no. No. No, of course not. I was just saying that it's common, not serious, and does not deserve any unusual punishment."

When the other two wizards nodded complacently in agreement, Harry totally abandoned his cool facade. He was furious, and showed it. Rising to his feet, he proceeded to tear to pieces the sublime complacency of the wizards. He paced the floor, and angrily attacked the attitude that muggles were any less than Wizardkind, he pointed out that magic was only one talent of many, and did not make wizards any better than muggles, and tore to strips the character of any wizard who used his powers to torment muggles. He wound up standing in front of a startled Madam Bones, demanding when she was going to address the inadequacies of wizard law - that muggles should be acknowledged as the equals under that law!

The aurors had their wands out, and raised, but wisely did nothing. Harry was toweringly angry, and unusually, was showing it without reservation.

Madam Bones gathered up her dignity, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Potter, for your views. Would you please retire for a while until we have given the matter some consideration."

Harry still stood, still fuming. At these words, he wheeled and headed for the door, the two aurors quickly following. As he left the room, he found four more aurors barring his way. They were all senior aurors, some of whom he knew of old. Harry was quivering with anger. One of the aurors behind him tapped him on the shoulder, and indicated a small room next to them.

In the small room, there were a few spindly chairs scattered around, and he automatically reached for his wand to conjure a more comfortable easy chair for himself. The two aurors, his escorts, tensed even further, and raised their own wands, but of course, he no longer had his wand with him anyway.

Harry, for a change, wasn't even noticing the implicit threat of his guards. Instead, he paced the room, trying to get a grip on his own anger. He didn't think he had been so angry in his life! How dare they think that people like Sandra, or Rachel and Edward, were unimportant because they were only muggles!

Harry had not been taking much notice of the aurors so closely watching him, but as he cooled down, he started thinking of what he had done. And now he was sure that he was going to have to break away from the aurors, and leave England. At the thought, he heaved a sigh, and sat down on one of the flimsy chairs. The aurors relaxed.

But Harry, although he didn't show it, was no longer ignoring them. Instead, he was assessing their likely capabilities, and wondering how he was going to escape. There were those four who had faced him as he left the first room, too. There was a window, but there was no escape there. It was not a real window. He didn't really know how he was going to get to the atrium, which was the only place in the Ministry building where it was possible to disapparate. He thought he might make an attempt to disapparate earlier. After all, he could often do things other people couldn't, and a quiet disapparation would be a much better solution than breaking out and leaving stunned Ministry employees everywhere.

An hour passed, and he fidgeted in the uncomfortable chair, and finally stood and leaned against the wall instead, re-erecting his cool facade. The aurors had tensed as soon as he got up from the chair, but Harry had decided that he might as well wait for the verdict before attempting escape, and only waited.

Another hour passed before there was a knock on the door, and Harry was led back to the larger room. He noted the position of his bag - he preferred to take it if possible when he left, and he was well aware, too, of his wand. He was definitely taking that when he left.

Madam Bones sat, as he was led them to face them.

"Remain standing, please, Mr. Potter," said Amelia Bones, with a shrewd guess that he would refuse to sit in any case, and without preliminaries, she said that on the charge of wrongful and excessive injury to a wizard, he was found not guilty.

Harry stood, looking remote, unmoved - but he was very relieved.

Madam Bones continued, "For disrespect of a wizard hearing," and she named a large fine.

She picked up his wand, preparing to return it to him, but Alston reached over, and said, "May I, Amelia?" taking the wand in his own hand, and raising Harry's blood pressure again.

Alston turned the wand over and over in his hand. "How many have you killed with this wand, Mr. Potter? It seems to me that maybe this wand should be confiscated for the deaths it has caused."

Harry raised his right hand, and the wand flew straight out of Alston's hands, and into his. He ran his own hand affectionately over it, and said coolly, "This wand has _never_ killed."

Those watching froze. Although Harry's wand had flown to his hand when he had been fighting, events had moved so fast that it had not been noticed, so this was an ability they hadn't known about. The aurors were even more relieved that they would not have to try and arrest this wizard. They suspected that it would be impossible unless they managed to put a spell on him - and they'd all been warned now that a spell could kill Harry Potter.

Harry was kicking himself, he had not intended to betray any of his abilities that he didn't have to. But it had made him angry to see that man handling his wand.

None of this he showed, and when he said, "May I leave now?" Madam Bones assented, and added, "Please allow the aurors to escort you. - we don't want any misunderstanding from the others."

Harry picked up his bag, and allowed the two aurors to escort him back to the atrium, where he silently disapparated, at full stride, the moment he arrived. Scores of waiting Ministry employees, two reporters, and a photographer were disappointed.

Back at Hogwarts, Harry avoided seeing anybody. He was still seething, and Dumbledore eventually found him in the gymnasium, fiercely hammering into a punching bag. He saw Dumbledore enter, but didn't pause, and Dumbledore eventually left him alone, to work himself to exhaustion.

He was gone before dinner, no-one knew where, although he did arrange for the fine to be paid almost immediately. Professor Dumbledore eventually found out what had occurred from Amelia Bones.

_**x**_

Harry returned to London Wednesday morning, to do his usual spell-breaking work with Hermione, but as he had not been in contact since the hearing, she'd stopped booking in patients. There were only three, all from the same family, and suffering under the same spell. They now sat anxiously in the waiting room, tense, but hopeful. The Ministry no longer provided an auror for Harry's protection - instead, one of the hospital security guards usually attended.

Hermione was sitting in her chair behind her desk, talking to a wizard in a chair in the corner, and waiting. Harry was due, but rumours had spread of the scene at the hearing, and his subsequent disappearance, and no-one knew whether he was going to arrive or not.

But suddenly he was there, silently appearing in the corner, as he habitually did. The auror, Bruce O'Brien, jumped, but Hermione only smiled at him, and said hello.

She started to introduce the pair, but Harry interrupted coldly, "I know O'Brien."

She tried again, anxiously, "The Ministry says that from now on, there has to be an observer here, and he can also act as a bodyguard if needed."

Harry, leaning against the wall, looking coldly at O'Brien, said flatly, "No!"

O'Brien put in, "You have to cooperate - it's the Ministry."

"I do this because I choose to, and I do not choose to do anything with a Ministry _Observer_ watching every move I make."

Hermione put in, "There are only three patients today, all suffering from the same spell - it'll only take a moment, and Bruce is not going to interfere - just note what you do, and defend you if you're attacked."

Harry regarded O'Brien for a moment, repeated, "No!" and turned and walked out the door.

In the waiting room, three pairs of anxious eyes turned to him, he saw immediately the unsightly tusks they'd been inflicted with, drew his wand, waved it briefly, and the tusks disappeared. He had barely slowed his walk, and was gone before he could be thanked.

Harry was fuming again. He was getting very tired of the Ministry and its aurors. It was not as though they had ever been effective in defending him, and he did not believe that Bruce O'Brien was likely to lift a finger to help him, if it came to that. No, he thought that it was just that the Ministry wanted to keep an eye on him, maybe to make more trouble for him.

He took himself for a time, to his house in London, Sirius Black's old house, where he slowly started to simmer down. He was not normally a quick tempered person, but recent events had opened his eyes to the defects of Wizardkind and the wizarding world that was his home. He lunched at a muggle pub in a town near Hogwarts, before returning quietly across the wall. He felt that in his present humour, he was bad company, and avoided meeting anybody as he returned to his room. It was still school holidays, and no students and few teachers were around.

He had not been at Hogwarts for several days. A few years before, Hermione and Severus Snape had devised a potion for him that he was to take every day. The purpose of the potion was to arm him against the ill effects if he was hit by a spell. No-one expected that he would not be very sick if that happened again, but maybe the potion might just keep him alive. Harry had little faith in it, but took it every morning when he was at Hogwarts, although not usually bothering when he was away.

So now he took a dose, and then sat drumming his fingers, unable to decide what he wanted to do next. When he rose to his feet, he was still undecided, only knowing that he was going out. But he found Professor Dumbledore outside his room, apparently preparing to knock.

"Harry, will you come to my office," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not good company right now," warned Harry, but Dumbledore just asked him again to come to his office.

Harry generally did whatever the old headmaster told him, and he walked with Dumbledore the short way to his office. Hermione was there, waiting with Amelia Bones, Bruce O'Brien, and Alec McVeigh, the head of the Auror Department.

Dumbledore started, "The Ministry wants you to have an observer when you work your cures."

"There is no need," said Harry, and now he was leaning against the wall again, looking cold, expressionless.

O'Brien and McVeigh interpreted his calm demeanour as dangerous.

McVeigh put in, "You have to do what the Ministry tells you, they're paying you, after all!"

Harry merely stated calmly, "I don't get paid for the healing work."

But Hermione put in apologetically, "Actually, Harry, you do. They pay me, and I have it put it into your bank vault."

There was a pause, until Harry said, "Well, that's easy, stop paying me, then."

"Why do you object, Harry?" asked Hermione. "It sounds harmless enough... and maybe they'll be useful if you get attacked - or me for that matter."

"Aurors have never helped me yet," said Harry, "Only tried to take me prisoner now and again!"

Hermione glanced at the two aurors present, and asked, "These ones, Harry?"

Harry only leaned against the wall, looking saturnine.

"We do what we're told to do," said O'Brien.

Harry said, "Any decent man will refuse to do some things, orders or not."

Madam Bones spoke firmly, "Paid or not, the Ministry will only allow you to do the healing work if you are accompanied by a fully qualified mediwizard, _and_ by a Ministry Observer. However, I am not unreasonable. if you have a particular objection to certain aurors, we will not send them."

Harry was silent for a space, and they waited for him. He liked doing his healing work. Almost always it was very easy for him, but on occasions he found a challenge, which he relished. And it seemed such a positive thing to do, when much of his endeavours seemed to be aimed simply at staying alive.

At length, he spoke. "These are the aurors that I will not tolerate near me," and in a quiet, deadly tone, he listed those aurors whom he had reason to distrust - "Bruce O'Brien, John Dawlish, Charles Mason, Richard Tomlinson, Sean Pickering, Ian McFarlane, Ian Jackson - and Alec McVeigh."

McVeigh objected, "I never went up against you!"

"You were in charge - you sent them!"

McVeigh was taken aback. He had not expected Harry to be able to give the names of all of those aurors who had been sent against him, without hesitation, and in a deadly tone that indicated not the slightest forgiveness.

"Well, are we agreed then?" asked Madam Bones. "Alec will organise an auror to be with you each week, he will not include the men stated, and will keep out of your way himself."

Harry merely inclined his head. He had conceded, but yet managed to look coolly in control.

Madam Bones said, "Bruce, Alec, you may go," and O'Brien and McVeigh nodded to the others, and left.

Hermione, too, rose, and said, "I'll have to be going, too. I've got patients." She asked tentatively, "See you next week, Harry?"

But Harry smiled at her, and said, "Of course."

Amelia Bones said, "Do sit down, Harry, now that you've stopped looking so dangerous."

He took a seat, but said in surprise, "I wasn't looking dangerous!"

Dumbledore smiled, "Tea and scones?" and the serious business of the day dissolved into a general conversation. Harry dropped his cool facade, and was enjoying the excellent scones that Dumbledore seemed to be capable of producing at a moment's notice.

Amelia Bones raised the subject of Harry's healing work again, finally. "You do good work. It's appreciated."

Harry shrugged, "It's easy enough, and I quite like to do it."

Dumbledore put in, "Did you really not know you were being paid?"

"Never thought about it," said Harry, but then turned to Madam Bones, and asked accusingly, "_Why_ do I have to have an observer?"

Madam Bones, put on the spot, was still a politician, and only said blandly, "As you are not a qualified healer, and as you are doing unusual magic, it is advisable that a Ministry Observer is on hand."

Harry was looking at her, drumming his fingers on the side of the chair, but to her relief, said nothing further on the subject.

From then on, a Ministry Observer was always on hand when Harry worked his cures, and Harry became accustomed to them, even though he was quite convinced that they were there for no other purpose than to keep an eye on himself.

He had no idea of the lecture that Madam Bones gave McVeigh, with the result that the aurors that were assigned to watch Harry were always very carefully chosen, usually Mark or Bedwin, to begin with.

While Harry knew that it would be a bad idea to get on the wrong side of the Ministry, Madam Bones was also very interested in keeping such a powerful wizard cooperative and useful. She thought McVeigh had been very silly to have sent Bruce O'Brien to see him work. O'Brien had twice been a part of attempts to have Harry confined.

_**x**_

Two weeks later, Harry Potter, (Order of Merlin, First Class) received an invitation to participate on a committee to look closely at the laws pertaining to harassment of muggles. He turned it over and over in his hands. He didn't know how to feel - this was so completely unexpected. But he was pleased, undoubtedly pleased. And he was even more pleased when the committee was effective.

Laws were re-written, with the penalties for 'muggle-baiting' made much more severe. Other laws removed separate references to muggles and Wizardkind, so that muggles were put much more on an equal basis with wizards and witches. Harry's tirade at the hearing had possibly struck a nerve, or maybe he was more respected than he had thought.

He enjoyed his work on the committee, and began to know his way around the Ministry building., as he was now quite frequently there. Dumbledore had spoken to Madam Bones about his studies, and to Harry's amazement, he was allowed to do some research in the Department of Mysteries, and to use their library. He was finding a fascination in his studies now, and he wondered sometimes, if his life had been different, whether he would ever have developed his fighting skills. Maybe, after all, he was just a natural scholar.

_**x**_

When school resumed, Harry found that he had more notoriety among the students than ever before. He was even more renowned as a fighter, as several students had been present that day in Diagon Alley.

Rumours of his exceptional powers had spread further, and fifteen-year-old Jennifer Mason told her friends about a different aspect of Harry Potter, too. She remembered in detail the scene when she and her mother had surprised Harry in an embrace with her aunt. Harry tried always to be very discreet in his liaisons, but now there was a witness only too happy to speculate about his sexuality. For a time, he found himself again having to take extreme precautions, not against sudden death, but against embarrassing confrontations with infatuated girl students

The photograph that had been taken that showed Harry in full fighting mode, that had been taken as he'd just killed, and looked about to kill again, was so striking that it was used again and again. It was on display at the office of the Daily Prophet, it took the place of the old photograph on the chocolate frog cards, and it was widely sold as a poster. Quite a few besotted girls owned one, and some hero-worshipping boys, too.

Harry was annoyed. It seemed to him that when he killed it was a necessity, and best forgotten. He did not like to regard himself as dangerous, and that photograph showed him as unequivocally dangerous.

Worse for Harry's anonymity, it made its way into the muggle world, frozen into stillness, but a popular poster that decorated the walls of many a muggle bedroom, whose occupants would have been amazed to discover that it was not just a man in a costume, but a real wizard, with a real wizard wand! A wizard who had just killed.

There were not only teenagers that bought that poster. There was a man of odd tastes, called Andrew Smith-Burton the sixth. He started his collection with that poster of Harry in his prime, and fighting. But Harry would not know Smith-Burton for some years yet.

***chapter end***


	3. Chapter 3

_Important Note__: When Harry was hit by a Death Curse at the age of 16, he was left with a sensivity to spells. A stunner can kill him, and even a lesser spell can make him very ill. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_Chapter 3:_

It was October, and Harry Potter was fully occupied teaching, studying, and playing. He had learned early that life was potentially short, and he was very good at enjoying himself. Life was good.

But life for Harry seldom stayed peaceful for long. He was walking down the corridor of the Ministry of Magic one day, accompanied by several members of the committee he was working with, when a sharp pain shot through his side. Instantly, Harry whirled and laid out the man who had stabbed him - responding to a muggle type attack with a straightforward muggle type punch.

An unknown wizard lay unconscious on the floor, but Harry was leaning against the wall, his hand pressed to his side, and a rapidly spreading pool of blood at his feet. He was looking for any other attackers, but was losing colour. Ginny arrived at his side just as he sank to the floor, still trying desperately to stay alert, still sure that he was in further danger.

"I'm here," she said, "I'll look after you," and Harry closed his eyes, having very quickly lost a great deal of blood.

When he woke, he was in an unfamiliar hospital ward. Three other wizards were in beds around him, which made him feel safer, but he felt terribly weak. He was in St. Mungo's, and St. Mungo's felt threatening to Harry, but they hadn't locked him up, and he was in an ordinary ward. Ginny had pressed for him to go to Hogwarts, where he would be safer from external attack, and with people he knew and trusted, but she'd been over-ruled. An auror guarded the door, for Harry's protection, and an anti-apparation charm had been laid over the room.

Harry felt dreadful. His side hurt, and tight bandages restricted his movement. On the other hand, it seemed that the healer had refrained from using any spells. He could be pretty sure of this, as he was still firmly alive.

A nurse came into the room, saw that he was awake, and came immediately to him. "Hello, Professor Potter," she said.

Harry hesitated, looked at her, and said, "Ah, I remember, Yvonne Stewart, Hufflepuff."

The young woman dimpled, pleased that she would be remembered.

"Yvonne, would you do something for me straightaway? Send an urgent owl to Dumbledore, tell him where I am, and that I need to get out as quickly as possible. I'm not safe here."

"But I'm sure you're safe here, there's an auror just outside the door, and, you know, they're wonderful!"

But Harry only said, "Please, Yvonne," and already he was feeling faint again.

Yvonne had been nursing for three years now, and saw and understood the signs of blanching face and tired voice. She delayed long enough to check her patient's pulse before hurrying off to arrange for the requested owl, even though it meant she was away from her work station, and her supervisor would be displeased if it was noticed. Unfortunately, the message was intercepted, as others had been.

Yvonne was away only a short time, and reassured Harry that the message was on its way. She helped him up, and he was given a potion that she told him would help renew blood quicker. Harry sipped cautiously at first, he didn't trust potions. But he knew his former student, and he was in an ordinary ward, so he thought he was probably all right for the present.

He slept again for a couple of hours then, but was roused for dinner. A nursing assistant had arrived with four meals on a tray, which were distributed in no particular order. Harry was beginning to feel those warning prickles of danger that had so often saved his life in the past, and only picked at the meal, hoping and hoping that Dumbledore would arrive soon to take him to Hogwarts where he felt safe.

He was very weak still from loss of blood, and slept again, even with those prickles of danger. When he next woke, though, it was because he was being very firmly held by two burly hospital assistants. He was still in the same room, but now there were no other patients. Alarms were screaming in his mind now.

"Mr. Potter," said a voice from behind him, "I'm just going to fix that wound of yours - a healing spell will fix it in a jiffy."

Harry sent a burst of magic that burnt the hands of the hospital assistants - who yelled and released him. He twisted himself out of bed, and tried to disapparate, but could not.

He stood at bay, therefore, back to the wall, blood streaming from his wound again, head spinning. Healer Smethwyck faced him, wand in hand.

Harry gathered himself and the healer dropped unconscious. But already Harry's knees were buckling, and all he could do was to send a desperate telepathic plea for help to Dumbledore, who sometimes seemed to have something of that very rare power. At the last, before he collapsed, he thought of

Severus Snape, who kept his abilities as close to his chest as Harry would like to. Again, a desperate cry for help, as Harry was in no doubt now that he was in very deep trouble.

At Hogwarts, Snape paused in his stride, shook his head, concentrated, but neither heard nor felt anything more. He did not ignore what he had felt, though, and turned abruptly toward Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was just emerging. Without preliminaries, Snape snapped, "Harry's in trouble. Do you know where he is?"

"I thought he felt as if he was in pain - St. Mungo's, do you think?"

The two professors walked very swiftly to the gates of Hogwarts, and apparated straight into the foyer of St. Mungo's.

Meantime, one of the hospital assistants revived Smethwyck. Together they picked up Harry where he lay bleeding heavily, unconscious on the floor. He was placed back on the bed, turned so that the wound was uppermost, and Smethwyck performed the standard healing spell for deep wounds, that could be dismissed as an accident, whether it killed this patient, or only made him very ill.

Snape ignored the queue in the foyer of the hospital, and went straight to the clerk, his voice a whip as he asked where Harry Potter was. The clerk answered immediately, supplying the room number, and adding, "Under Healer Smethwyck."

Dumbledore and Snape strode swiftly together toward the room where Harry now lay. Brushing aside the auror on duty, the formidable team entered the room, surprising Smethwyck with his wand still out. Furiously, Snape disarmed and immobilised Smethwyck, while Dumbledore crossed to Harry.

Harry was lying in a pool of blood, bandages and pyjamas soaked, and yet more blood in the corner of the room, where he had tried to disapparate. Dumbledore looked for a pulse, but there appeared to be no breathing, no heartbeat. He pushed aside Harry's pyjama top, and put his hand firmly over the heart as Madam Pomfrey did sometimes, until he felt that first new quiver, as the heart tried to re-start after the near fatal jolt of the spell. There was the same old pattern, then, the heart gradually resuming its beat, but feeble and erratic, threatening to stop again at any moment.

Harry had been through this before, and it was not the first time that his friends had waited as he sought to take a hold on life again. At last, it looked as if he would live, and Dumbledore said to Snape, "Maybe your potion just made the difference."

It was nearly a week later that Harry opened his eyes again. He was at Hogwarts, and his owl, Hedwig, was nudging his hand, until he feebly raised it, and stroked her back. He raised his hand to his face, and felt it, trying to guess at how long he had been unconscious. But his cheek felt unfamiliar, with the rough bristles that indicated that he had been shaved. The feel displeased him, and he ran both hands over his cheeks again, and they were smooth. He could no longer feel the pain of his wound, and he assumed that the spell that had nearly killed him, had at least healed the stab wound. His eyes closed again, and he drifted off back to sleep.

When next he woke, it was because he was being gently raised by John, the hospital assistant. John had some potion to give him, and some soup afterward. Harry obediently drank, but he could not take much, and when John lay his head back on the pillow, he scarcely looked around before closing his eyes. It was the pattern for the next few days. Harry was suffering not only from the effect of the spell, but his blood loss had been enormous. He was extremely ill.

Sometimes, when he woke, there would be someone sitting beside him. Ron, Ginny. Severus, Molly Weasley a couple of times, for whom he was still like a son. But when Dumbledore was there, he made an effort. It was on his conscience, his current girlfriend, Simone, had been stood up, and he asked Dumbledore to let her know he was ill. Tuesday night, he said, he was supposed to have met her Tuesday night. Dumbledore promised to let her know, quietly wondering which Tuesday night he'd meant, as he was well into his third week of illness now.

At length came the day when Harry woke up, feeling better. He had finally managed to throw off the effects of the spell, but when he tried to slip out of bed and have the refreshing shower he craved, he only crumpled in a faint next to the bed. Hedwig, sitting on the end of his bed, gave an ear-splitting shriek that brought John and Madam Pomfrey hurrying, and disturbed the other patients in the unusually busy school hospital.

Harry was lifted back into his bed, and John kept a closer watch on him to make sure that he wouldn't do it again. But when he woke and begged for a proper shower, Madam Pomfrey understood it to be a sign of beginning recovery, and allowed John to help him shower. He was still cripplingly weak. He thought next time he was stabbed, he would not delay, but take himself straight to a muggle hospital where they knew how to treat knife wounds without using magic. The thin scar across his ribs was the legacy of a knife wound treated in a muggle hospital, and it had healed quickly.

That day, he wrote a short note to Simone, apologising for his absence. He always sought to treat his temporary girlfriends with consideration. He never offered them love or permanence, but tried to make up for it in other ways, and none of them ever regretted knowing Harry Potter. But the shaky note was answered with a perfectly sweet letter, that yet gave him the message that he'd been replaced. He stopped worrying about Simone.

Hermione was apparently fully established as his healer, and he had ceased to be embarrassed in front of her. The weeks that had gone by half in a dream had given him time to become accustomed to her in this new role.

Ginny visited almost every evening. Since she'd been widowed, she had moved back in with her parents, Molly Weasley only too happy to look after young Adam, who seemed such little trouble after her own lively family. Harry didn't question the privilege of these visits, and only treated her the same as he treated any other of his friends. Only occasionally would a look in his eyes indicate a different feeling toward the vibrant redhead, a year younger than himself.

He was in the bathroom one morning, John in attendance. He was looking broodingly into the mirror, seeing himself startlingly thin. There was no new scar from his knife wound, though, which was good - he reckoned he had enough scars to be going on with. But he was impatient with himself. He felt fully alert, and was no longer sleeping half the day, but his body still let him down - he was apt to collapse in a heap if left to himself. He was taking potions to help him recover, Snape's strengthening potion, and a blood replenishing potion, but they didn't seem to help. He still had a slightly tender mark on his back, where a Death Curse had landed so many years ago, and which seemed to be the root cause of his current sensitivity to spells.

Smethwyck, he learned, had been scheduled to face a Ministry Disciplinary Hearing. The healing spell had not been dismissed as an accident, with the evidence of written instructions that no spell was to be used on Harry Potter. It seemed that he'd been allowed to take over care of Harry, excluding Hermione, as he had a leading position in the hierarchy of St. Mungo's. But Smethwyck had left the country.

The hospital assistants, although probably complicit in the attack, escaped punishment. Hermione, in disgust at St. Mungo's for allowing her friend to be so nearly killed, had resigned, and was intending to set up a private practice in Diagon Alley, right next to Fred and George's Joke Shop.

The wizard who had knifed Harry, and who had gone down to his furious punch to the jaw, was now in Azkaban. Azkaban was still a very secure prison, but hadn't used Dementors as guards since they'd allied themselves with Voldemort. The inmates were no longer driven mad.

Harry asked Dumbledore how he had been rescued, but Dumbledore, for reasons best known to himself, said nothing about a telepathic communication - merely said that he had heard that he was at St. Mungo's and managed to extract him soon after the spell was made. Harry assumed that he had received the message from Yvonne, and probably one from Ginny as well.

Harry worked at his recovery, the best way he knew, pushing himself a little harder each day, striving to regain the strength that he'd lost. The hospital ward continued busy, and the hospitalised students gave him someone to talk to. He even found himself teaching again. Harry was a general favourite with the students. In spite of his formidable reputation, they found him approachable and friendly, and he had a positive genius for passing on knowledge.

Dumbledore found him one morning, sitting in his chair by the window, surrounded by a half dozen students, to whom he was teaching the summoning spell. He looked as if there was nothing wrong with him, except for being too thin. But then he stood to greet Dumbledore, and was grabbed by one of the students, as he suddenly blanched and nearly fell.

Harry was impatient to leave the hospital. He was bored and restless, but knew that he would have to stay for a while, at least until he could be trusted to cross the room without fainting. So Dumbledore had a word with Hermione and Madam Pomfrey, with the result that Harry resumed the remedial teaching that he was so good at. The hospital ward became a noisier and more cheerful place for a while, as Harry taught his students. It was a continuing

joke to the students that they would often have to remind Professor Potter of the incantation for a piece of magic, before he could teach it. And it was an absolute mystery to everyone how he could teach magic at all, when his own magic seemed to follow completely different rules to everyone else's.

It seemed very slow, but Harry was gaining strength. He tried hard to walk, up and down the room, without staggering and without relying on helpers. This was what he was doing one Saturday morning, when Ginny came into the room. He looked up and smiled.

She smiled back, and without any further preliminaries, she announced, "As soon as you're better, we're getting married."

He did stagger then, ending up clinging to the end of a bed in which a patient was sitting, open mouthed. Still holding on, he looked cautiously toward Ginny, "Don't joke with me," he said quietly.

But Ginny repeated, "As soon as you're better, we're getting married."

Harry, without a falter, crossed to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately.

A fire had flared between these two when Harry had first returned to England after long years abroad. But life had always been uncertain for Harry, and Ginny had looked to another man for permanence and security. The fires had been buried deep, stifled, but now they were allowed to flare again, without reservation.

Ginny pulled him toward his chair, but Harry was unwilling to let her go, and the chair quietly expanded to a two-seater lounge. He used no wand, and gave no indication that he was even doing magic, except for a brief glance at the chair. Snape at the door, and four watching students, gaped. Harry had totally forgotten he had an audience, and had to be reminded by Ginny. He pulled himself together, trying hard to remember to act with decorum.

Snape was looking at them, a wry smile on his face. He felt a great fondness for Harry, and was happy for him. but Harry was the first true friend he had had in a bitter life, and he knew that he would be seeing a lot less of him in future. He did not go to Harry, who was totally absorbed in Ginny. Even fully clothed and only sitting with arms around each other, the pair managed to radiate such an atmosphere of sexuality and passion that the watching teenagers were both fascinated and disturbed. Harry and Ginny were left alone.

Albus Dumbledore heard the news soon enough. When a proposal is made with half a dozen witnesses, word soon gets around. But he left it an hour before he visited Harry, still sitting squeezed close to Ginny in the chair he had modified, that was just big enough for the two of them.

Harry saw him there, in front of him, and conjured an easy chair, this time remembering to use his wand. "We're getting married," he told Dumbledore, with a joy in his voice and on his face that made Dumbledore want to weep. And it was only a few days later that they were married, honeymooning in a quiet Spanish hotel by the beach, where the weather was warm, and the facilities suitable for a man who was still so lacking in strength and fitness.

So Harry and Ginny found each other finally, in passion and in love. And if Hermione insisted on visiting every few days to check up on Harry, Ginny welcomed this safeguard, even if Harry did not.

Hermione kept Dumbledore informed, and Harry was allowed to resume work three weeks after the marriage. His spell-breaking work with Hermione resumed, too. There was a backlog, but it didn't take long to clear up.

_**x**_

Ginny was ecstatically happy, had total confidence in the future, and there was no reason to wait. By the end of the honeymoon, she was pregnant. It was standard for female aurors to be transferred from active duty, and although Ginny had been annoyed with this requirement during her first pregnancy, this time she was grateful for the consideration. Not only was she more ill, there was her first child to consider. Before long, she left work entirely. Her pregnancy was not an easy one.

To begin with, the small family lived at Sirius Black's place in London, and while Ginny managed to improve the interior decoration a little, neither of them really liked it, and its secrecy made it an inconvenient location. Harry refused to compromise its secrecy. A hidden retreat might one day save his life. Maybe it would be best if its existence was forgotten. So they purchased an estate in the north of England, formerly owned by muggles. The house was big, and Harry, with Dumbledore's help, made the whole estate as secure as he could, hiding it with spells and charms, and protecting its perimeter with high fences. The whole of the estate was protected by anti-apparation charms, except for a narrow strip of land , at a distance from the house, and a very small area within the house, the coordinates of which would be only given to members of the immediate family for security reasons. They were not connected to the floo network, again for security reasons.

A staff was hired, and Dobby and Winky, the house-elves, moved in with their family. Distance was no problem, Harry apparated to Hogwarts every day, while Ginny apparated to London

Many wizards liked to put muggle-repelling enchantments on their homes, but Harry chose not to do so. Muggles had never threatened him. He left the phone connected, had a TV, and all the outer, more public rooms showed no trace of obvious magic.

As well as providing a small gymnasium for himself, Harry chose a large, outside room as a workshop for his inventions. His expenses had risen considerably with his marriage, and now that he was thinking of a future, he preferred his income to keep up with his expenses. He had a wide knowledge of magic by now, and used his talents to invent some devices for healers that Hermione suggested were needed, and a few other useful items that Fred and George sold in their shop.

The most successful of his inventions was a backscratcher, 'A touch of magic.' This wonderful gadget would find the itchy spots without fail, would never break the skin. and had a touch of healing magic so that the user would find relief. Harry arranged for a small factory to make the basic devices, but would then personally treat them, endowing each of them with that little touch of magic that made them very special. That little backscratcher was sold in the wizarding world, but also in the much bigger market of the muggle world. That little backscratcher meant that he didn't have to worry about money for very many years to come.

Some of his friends, who knew of the never-ending series of girlfriends that he habitually enjoyed, wondered how long he would be satisfied with just one woman. But they did him an injustice. Harry had been given the deepest desire of his heart and he was ecstatically happy. Through all the years of his marriage, he never showed sexual interest in any other woman.

In other spheres, too, he was happy in his marriage. Ginny was a spirited lady with some very firm views, but Harry felt as if by marrying him, she had given him an incredible gift. He always did exactly as she told him - luckily what she told him was only ever good sense. Until he was fully healthy, for instance, she insisted that he allow Hermione to do regular examinations, and he became accustomed to Hermione rebuking him for staying underweight for so long. She felt that he had too few reserves when thin, in case of further illness, and Ginny made sure that he was very well fed. Not that it made much difference to Harry, he was never good at regaining lost weight.

One of the first things that Ginny did after they were established in their new home, was to hire a young woman called Margaret as a secretary/book-keeper. She'd been appalled at Harry's casual attitude to money, and found it hard to comprehend that he hadn't even known that he was being paid for his spell-breaking work.

Margaret Brown was an unusual woman. She seemed immune to Harry's charm, and appeared to look at him with some disapproval, even though she had so recently been a student at Hogwarts and knew him as a teacher. But she was very efficient, and Harry's affairs had never been so well run. Instead of having a casual look in his vault at Gringotts, to make sure that the piles of gold were not diminishing too much, there was now an accounting of money earned and money spent. She knew of his inventions, how much gold they were earning, and even organised new markets for his very successful back-scratcher - and reminded him to work his magic on a new batch now and then. He had tried to delegate this job - none of his other inventions required his personal intervention, but no-one else seemed to be able to work the precise magic required. He could do a hundred or more at a time, but he still had to do it himself.

Ginny and Harry were very happy together. Their cheer and sociability made them welcome guests wherever they appeared. Their love was obvious, and their happiness was contagious, so that they were very popular.

Nine months after the wedding, two baby girls were born, soon after Harry's thirtieth birthday.

Young Adam was thrilled. He had a new and exciting father, a brand new area of land to play on, and two potential playmates. It was soon seen that the little girls would be redheads, to Harry's delight. He was very fond of the Weasley family, and to have a pair of redheads himself seemed to bring the families closer.

***chapter end***


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 4:_

As always, Harry Potter had to be cautious. There were still occasional attempts to kill him. But he suspected that his attackers may have diminished in number considerably, and he wondered, too, if the spy-ring that had formerly made life so hazardous had become less efficient. He was never subject to attacks now in muggle areas, and appeared to be able to visit private houses with impunity. Diagon Alley was still hazardous, and anywhere that he was expected at a public gathering. But even at those places where he felt himself to be watched as prey, the potential attackers appeared to be very cautious, maybe just waiting for that moment when he would be preoccupied, or rashly expose his back.

Soon after their girls were born, he took on a new role at Hogwarts. It arose from a discussion with Ginny about Julia, his illegitimate daughter. Julia's mother was a muggle, Rachel, a dear friend. Her husband was Edward Moore, and Harry had not even been told at first that he had anything to do with their little girl who had enthralled him when just a small baby. If they hadn't told him, they would have found it very difficult, as all muggle parents of witches or wizards must do. They would have no idea of where to go and what to do. Albus Dumbledore, had explained that arrangements were in place to visit the parents of muggle-borns, and help with the necessary adjustments, but when Harry found that the initial contact came from the Muggle Studies Professor, he did not consider it satisfactory. Dumbledore was a little too blithely optimistic sometimes, he felt.

He didn't like the Muggle Studies professor, as he often spoke scathingly of the muggles - as if they were automatically stupid. When Harry offered to take over the job of initial contact, reminding him that he'd been muggle-raised himself, the professor was pleased to be relieved of part of his tedious duties, even though he still had the job of helping them obtain school supplies. It would be exposing them to danger for Harry to accompany them then.

After that, every year, Harry had a small flock of muggle-borns under his wing. He watched out for them, and ensured, as best he could, that they settled into their new life without problems.

Harry may not have been a political animal, but, while he never particularly thought about it, every year, there were more wizards and witches who thought the world of him. His own contemporaries, who had gone to school with him, and who had regarded him as their hero, were now beginning to move into positions of power. Hogwarts was the only major school of magic in Britain, and as a teacher there, he had contact with almost every young witch and wizard in the country. He was, quite unknowingly, building up a power base.

He was becoming more respected as an influence in wizard affairs too, although he was never adept at the underhanded tactics that are routine in political life. After his role on the muggle law committee, there were other committees, and he found his views sought by some very influential people.

Draco Malfoy was also becoming a force in political affairs, but Draco worked his influence from behind the scenes. His father's being known as a Death Eater had effectively ended the possibility of Draco directly becoming a power. He used the family money to buy influence instead. He always seemed to know what was happening and who was involved, and as he often sought Harry's company at the events where they were both present, they saw quite a lot of each other. It was sometimes a stormy acquaintance, as Draco was still perfectly apt to make him see red with his sniping at his friends, or his attacks on 'muggle-lovers.'

_**x**_

Once Harry was married, Severus Snape, as he had known he would from the first, saw a lot less of him. His one friend was absorbed in his life as a family man. Seeing his happiness and knowing with what courage Harry had faced a difficult destiny, Snape could not begrudge him his contentment. But he found a lot less to laugh at these days.

Harry did not forget this friend. His other friends were not alone, as Severus Snape was alone. Snape was very widely disliked, and there was reason for the dislike. He was a bitter man, who faced life with a sneer on his face. But Harry had seen behind the facade, found amusement in his acerbic views on life, and enjoyed his company. It was Severus Snape who wound up putting him in a different role for a change.

They were walking together in Diagon Alley. Their presence had apparently been reported to the Ministry of Magic as an auror appeared nearby, as often happened. Harry assumed they were keeping an eye on him, although he never had any faith in their protecting him. At least, he was apparently not expected to tolerate those aurors that he had named as objectionable to him. The assignment of keeping a watch on Harry, if that was what it was, seemed to be given to the younger aurors, although never Ron.

He was wary, as always, but was taken off guard when an unknown woman ran to him, took him by the arm, and looked up at him adoringly, crying softly, "Harry Potter, you're my hero - I love you!"

Instantly, his expression changed from casual happy to cold, and he looked down at her face and used the freezing voice he had copied from Snape. "I beg your pardon," he said dauntingly, and the woman flushed and let him go.

Harry had been distracted, and the next moment, Snape grabbed him and took him to the ground, covering his friend with his own body. It was Snape who took the red streak of light that was the stunner spell, almost instantly followed by two more.

Harry struggled out from under his friend, and was on his feet, wand in hand, ready to fight. There was no longer an attacker in sight. The auror, known to Harry as Bedwin, was swiftly at their side and standing protectively over the pair.

"He took three stunners," he said to Harry. "Is he all right?"

Harry turned his friend onto the back, gently touching the white face, and feeling for the pulse in his wrist. He found the pulse, and was reassured that he was alive. He was not experienced, and could not tell if what he was feeling was normal, or shallow. A stunner to a normal healthy person is harmless. Three stunners, delivered with force, however, can kill. His friend was very pale, and his breathing faint. Harry finally knew what it was to hope and pray for the life of a friend.

Snape was taken to St. Mungo's. Harry was with him almost constantly for the next couple of days, desperately worried.

Dumbledore visited, too, although quite a lot less worried. He thought Harry's concern exaggerated, but being only human, after all, he was a little pleased. How often had Harry's friends held their breath as he had hovered on the verge of death? Now it was Harry's turn to worry for a friend.

When Snape finally regained consciousness a couple of days later, Harry was in a chair beside him, looking pale and tired, and dozing. Snape looked around, took in his surroundings, and remembered the stunner hurtling at Harry's back. He said in a mocking voice, "Well, this is a turnaround! You've frightened the life out of me enough times!"

Harry woke with a start, and was inclined to be emotional. He'd been so frightened that Snape was going to die, and it would have been for his sake.

But Snape only said sneeringly, "And you even braved St. Mungo's!" For Severus Snape had a good idea of the apprehension with which Harry viewed St. Mungo's.

Harry pulled himself together and made a light remark.

Snape recovered fully and quickly, but was never able to tell Harry how much it had meant to him that someone had been so worried for his health.

_**x**_

Harry's daughter, Julia, was now eight years old. Her younger brothers were five and four. Harry continued to visit them regularly, sometimes taking the whole family out for treats. He was a wealthy man compared to the Moores, and although they had refused to accept any payment for the support of Julia, they did not deprive him of the pleasure of sharing his wealth to this extent.

Ginny didn't like Julia. She saw the way the girl was charming to Harry, but had also seen the cruel pinches she inflicted on her brothers. And sometimes, she thought that Rachel and Edward almost seemed frightened of the girl.

Ginny and Adam often accompanied Harry on his visits, and they were present one day for a trip to a nearby harbour, although the babies had been left with Molly.

They had returned now, and the two families were sitting in the sun outside the Moore's house, when Harry produced his wand. In a casual fashion, he announced that it was a special type of light that would only work if one said the word, '_Lumos',_ and demonstrated, but that it didn't work for everyone. He handed it to young Paul, and said, "Try it."

Paul said "Lumos," shouted "Lumos," and whispered, "Lumos," but nothing happened. Mark was equally unsuccessful.

Adam tried, son of Ginny's first husband, David Bourne. The wand half flickered, and he tried several times, before finally a gentle light shone.

Julia was watching the wand with a covetous expression on her face, and when her turn came, she almost snatched it. The wand tip flared instantly into a bright light at her word. Harry had confirmed that his daughter had inherited the magical talent, although he had not really doubted it. And to have been so immediately successful, the talent had to be strong.

But there was an unpleasant surprise in store for Harry. His charming and beautiful daughter refused to return his wand, apparently feeling that she only had to put on a tantrum, and her adoring Uncle Harry would give her anything she wanted. Harry stared at her in consternation as she stared back defiantly refusing to return the wand, and screamed whenever approached.

At last, Ginny, daughter of forceful Molly Weasley, intervened. Not taking any nonsense, she took Julia by the arm, and removed the wand from her grasping fingers, giving her a stern slap across the face when Julia tried to hit and pinch at her. Julia's screams reached a crescendo, before she abruptly turned and fled to her room.

Harry was stunned, and Ginny was rather sorry for him. Rachel and Edward were embarrassed. There was a silence. No-one knew what to say. Edward's two little boys had vanished, and Adam was hiding behind Ginny. At last Ginny spoke. "I think it's time you had an honest talk with Edward and Rachel, Harry. It may be that Julia is not the sweet tempered child you think her."

Rachel had been having increasing difficulty with the girl, and knew this to be a colossal under-statement. She agreed that it was time that Harry dropped the blinkers from his eyes. After all, Harry was Julia's real father, and Rachel needed help. It was not going to be long before the child was totally out of her control. It was arranged that Edward would get some time off work, and they would have a serious talk, at a time when Julia was safely out of the way, at school. Rachel would let him know what time to arrive.

The following evening, Harry was playing with Adam, being a horse for Adam to ride. Adam was normally a rather serious child, but right now he was laughing hilariously.

When Ginny announced that it was time for his bath, Harry volunteered for the job. But when washing his tiny stepson, Harry was perturbed to find some very nasty bruises on his arms and asked Adam what had happened. Adam told him, in a perfectly matter of fact tone, that Julia did it - she always pinched. Harry was appalled. He never could understand wanton cruelty, and could not understand how the daughter of Rachel and of himself, could show this trait.

He was prepared for some disturbing revelations when he met Edward and Rachel later in the week. It was difficult to start. They knew for sure now that Julia was a witch, and Harry spoke about Hogwarts, where Julia would be going at the age of eleven. He suggested that before she started there, she should sometimes come to his own place to get to know a little of the wizarding world before she attended. And he told a funny story of his own introduction to the wizarding world, which made everyone laugh.

They couldn't avoid the difficult subjects forever. They all loved the child, and were apt to fly to her defence when she was criticised, which made it hard to admit that there was a problem. The usual euphemisms were brought into play - Julia was 'a free spirit,' or simply 'spirited.' She was 'strong willed.' Harry spoke of bruises on his stepson, and Rachel admitted that her own sons were seldom free of bruises, the result of Julia's spite. And she finally told Harry that the tantrum he had seen on the weekend was not an isolated occurrence. That she was beginning to be worried that she would not be able to control Julia for much longer. She was apt to blame Harry, thinking that the nastier traits that Julia were showing were because she was a witch.

Harry thought of the strange link that he had had with Voldemort, never satisfactorily explained, and the thought occurred to him for the first time, but not the last, that he might carry some sort of a 'bad seed.' But Ginny laughed at him for this. She wanted more children, although preferably one by one in future.

Julia was going to be beautiful. Her hair was jet black and glossy, and her slanted green eyes already had an allure. Her face was still the round face of a child, but she looked on the world with a calculating gaze and she had a penetrating intelligence. Harry knew that he had indulged her too much. At the same time, he did not believe that over-indulgence makes a normal child cruel and spiteful. No-one really knew how to handle Julia, but at least they had acknowledged the problem, which is essential before anything effective can be done to overcome it.

He tried speaking to Molly Weasley about her, as Molly had reared seven children, and he thought that she must be wise. Molly was not too pessimistic. Work on the behaviour problems, she suggested. Use discipline applied with love, and hope that the child will make the right choices as she grew up.

This seemed good advice, and Harry crossed his fingers and hoped. Young Julia found she was subject to a much more stern discipline, whether at home or at Harry's place, where she started to stay now and again. Her young half brothers no longer felt her hard pinching fingers, which was a relief - Julia was learning more subtle methods of getting her own way.

She was not a changed child. When she stayed with them, Adam, three years her junior, was afraid of her and kept right away. On the occasions when their wills crossed, he was quick to concede. The little redheads, however, Harry and Ginny's twin girls, were a different proposition.

Julia was ten, the little girls three, but when screams brought Ginny running one day, it was to find that it was Julia getting the worst of the fight. The girls had found Julia being cruel to Adam, and had raced to his defence. Adam, after his initial confusion, had joined in, and Julia was getting kicked and punched and hit by two furious little redheads, and one determined little boy.

Ginny observed from the sidelines, then quietly slipped away, letting Julia get what she well deserved.

Harry loved Julia. She was still his daughter, and he could not change his love just because she caused him worry. She had so many talents, but she only seemed to think of herself. Once he dreamed of her, and there was an image of a writhing twisting snake, and Voldemort and Julia, intermixing and becoming each other. Julia became Voldemort in his dreams, with Voldemort's desire to make people fear her.

_**x**_

Harry continued to visit Dudley now and then, and even his aunt and uncle, though more rarely. Often he would take one of the children with him, as Ron had long since passed on his auror's skill of apparating with a passenger. Ginny was especially pleased when he would take along one of the twins, as they were very active children, constantly getting into some startlingly imaginative mischief. They had none of the guile and cruelty of Julia, however, and Harry loved them all without reservation, and enjoyed their company. There was a need for a strict roster system, as Adam, Victoria and Margaret all loved the treat of being the one child who had the privilege of accompanying their father on his visits.

Only when he thought that he might be in danger did he deny them this treat.

Dudley had married early, and now had three children, two boys and a little redheaded girl called Gemme, just the same age as Harry's own little redheads. Gemme seemed to rule the roost in Dudley's household. The two older boys worshipped her, and her parents thought she could do no wrong.

Harry and Dudley were in his backyard one day, sipping beer, and watching the children play. Harry had brought Adam with him that day. Gemme was being a general, and Mark, Simon, and Adam, were all being soldiers for her to command. Celia was in the kitchen, preparing an evening meal.

A thought occurred to Harry. Dudley was his cousin, Dudley's mother was his own mother's sister. "What will you do if any of your children turn out to be witches or wizards?" he asked Dudley. "Try and beat it out of them?" He was remembering the way he himself had been treated growing up in the home of his aunt and uncle.

"They are my children," said Dudley, "I would never do that," and they were both looking at the little redhead, queening it over the boys.

_**x**_

Harry continued to fairly casually work out most days, he liked the feeling of stretching muscles, and honest physical fatigue. He had never become fanatical, and had no interest in bulging muscles. But when, on another visit to Dudley's house, again with Adam, Dudley invited him to go to the local gymnasium and boxing rink with him, he was interested, and keen.

Dudley no longer was a competitive boxer. He never had made it to national competition. Although he could hit very hard, he was not quick or clever enough to make it into the top league. But his exercise routine included sparring practice and much use of the punching bag.

Harry's own gym included a punching bag, but oddly, he had never felt the need to use it since he married Ginny. He had attacked the punching bag at Hogwarts a few times, but only when something had made him very angry. It was normally an ignored part of the background. He used to enjoy muggle fighting, too - akin to formal boxing, but with far fewer rules. He was surprised to realise he hadn't done that for years either. Adam wanted to come with him, and Harry glanced at Dudley to see if it was all right for the eight year old to join them. Adam was a well behaved, quiet boy, and Dudley was sure that he'd be no trouble.

Harry was interested in watching Dudley sparring with another man. He thought it sounded a good idea, to be fighting and yet not fighting. When a man more Harry's height and weight asked Dudley who his friend was, and whether he was interested in having a go, he was suddenly alight with enthusiasm.

Dudley, even though they'd worked out together before, still somehow thought of Harry as small and skinny, certainly no boxer. He was very surprised when Harry not only showed willing, but was looking as if he could hardly wait. Harry rummaged in the small kitbag he often carried with him, and came up with some exercise shorts, and Dudley was again surprised as he shortly appeared in them. Wearing only the shorts, it could be seen that Harry had a beautiful build, his shoulders and back strongly muscled, waist and hips narrow, and legs strong.

Dudley helped him into the boxing gloves, which Harry had never before worn. He found them uncomfortable, and was apt to hold his hands out awkwardly at the sides, betraying his total lack of experience at formal boxing.

His opponent, introduced as Dick, was now ready too, and was enjoying the prospect of showing this nobody what boxing was all about! He taunted Harry, "Don't want to back out, do you?"

But Harry's eyes were gleaming, and he just grinned as he ducked under the ropes.

Without formalities, Dick threw a punch, which Harry almost casually dodged. He was still holding his hands awkwardly out to the sides, occasionally even shaking them, as if he thought that the gloves might come off.

Dick continued to attack, Harry to dodge, and Harry's speed of reflex was becoming very obvious.

Dick was getting angry as he started to tire, yet Harry had not yet thrown a punch. Dick suddenly got vicious, and started to fight viciously. Harry still did not use his gloved hands to fend off the punches, but nevertheless managed to avoid being touched.

"I thought Dud told me you were only supposed to hit gently when sparring," he said provocatively, as Dick lost his balance after a tremendous blow failed to land, and he finally, tentatively, lifted his gloved hands, stepped forward, and tapped Dick on the face guard.

His opponent gave a cry of pure rage and launched himself at Harry, trapping him on the ropes for a moment and giving a hard hit to the kidney area. Harry finally forgot the unfamiliar gloves and hit back swiftly, but not very hard, almost casually getting his blows in under and around the guard put up by Dick, who had become stupid with rage.

The bout had attracted an audience. The boxing coach was agleam with enthusiasm, thinking that he had found a potential champion. Dudley watched, mouth open, but Adam was horrified. It was this look of horror that Harry suddenly caught sight of, that ended the bout.

He stepped back, dropping his arms, and circled out of reach, avoiding the blows that became increasingly erratic, as Dick staggered to a standstill. The coach reluctantly whistled.

Harry was ashamed. He had suddenly seen the fight through the eyes of his sensitive stepson, and it really was barbaric, as Severus Snape had once told him. The clapping and enthusiasm of the onlookers he found embarrassing, and he quickly retired to the showers, although he had scarcely raised a sweat.

Even here, he was not left alone, as he had to freeze off the undesired attentions of an older boxer. Harry's sexual attraction was not just for women, as he had learned long since. Not that he had ever had problems, the homosexual men he had met at various times were quick enough to take a hint.

The boxing coach was waiting for him to emerge. Even at Harry's advanced age of thirty-four, he thought that he could have a champion if only he would agree to be managed by him. But Harry was thinking only of Adam's look of sick horror, and was bent on making a swift getaway.

Dudley was still looking half stunned, but almost automatically changed into his own clothes, accompanied Harry and Adam to the car, and drove them the few blocks home.

Harry took his leave, then, walking around the corner with the silent boy, before putting his arms around his shoulders, and apparating. He apologised to Adam, as they reached home. Adam seemed to think that his stepfather should not apologise, but he was looking at him as if he was a stranger.

That night, sensitive Adam woke his mother when he cried out in a nightmare, and Ginny soundly rebuked Harry for exposing him to the sight of grown men deliberately trying to hurt each other.

***chapter end***


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 5:_

The years passed uneventfully until Julia was eleven, and it was time for her to go to Hogwarts. Harry was again finding himself frequently a target, especially in a public place such as Diagon Alley. It now appeared that his attackers knew that he could be killed as easily with a stunner as with a Death Curse, and with a lot less risk to the attacker. So now it was red streaks of light that came hurtling at him, just as fatal for Harry, but a lot easier for his attackers. And without the risk that it would result in their own sudden death.

It might have been dangerous, but Harry was unwilling to delegate the task of taking Julia to Olivanders for her wand. A younger Mr. Ollivander served them this time, but sent chills through his spine, when he murmured, "How curious, how very curious!" just as old Mr. Ollivander had said when Harry had found the one wand to suit him. This time, however, no explanation was forthcoming.

With Harry's routine caution, they disapparated from within Ollivanders, and Ginny purchased the rest of Julia's supplies separately.

Julia's parents took her to King's Cross station to take the train to Hogwarts, but Harry was with them to take her through the barrier to the magical platform, where the Hogwarts train waited.

Julia appeared unmoved as she first saw the scarlet steam engine that always filled Harry with such pleasure. She was to be known as Julia Moore, muggle-born. The scandal of her illegitimacy was to be kept quiet.

Harry told Dumbledore though. They were having tea and scones, as Dumbledore so frequently offered. And Harry quite deliberately waited until Dumbledore raised his cup to his lips, before casually mentioning, "My daughter starts at Hogwarts this year."

Poor Dumbledore coughed and spluttered, as Harry watched with mischievous glee.

"Who?" Dumbledore asked, finally recovering himself, and he answered, "Julia Moore."

"Ah, one of the muggle-borns," said Dumbledore, and he was looking at Harry with a stern rebuke in his eyes.

He had his revenge as Harry flushed and looked away. Harry had become accustomed to the existence of Julia, and had forgotten that illegitimate children are generally regarded as a matter for shame. But Dumbledore was fascinated all the same, waiting to see what sort of daughter this brilliant wizard had sired.

When the first years lined up for the sorting, he looked for a girl that might look like Harry. The beautiful girl with the glossy black hair and slanting eyes caught his eye, but there was no look of Harry Potter there, and he finally settled on a different girl entirely as the probable daughter.

As the names were called out, the matter was resolved. Julia Moore was called, the beautiful child looking imperturbable as she sat on the stool and the sorting hat was placed on her head. Without hesitation, the hat called "Slytherin."

Dumbledore looked in surprise at Harry, who sat looking as imperturbable as his daughter. Somehow Harry was not surprised that Julia had been put in Slytherin, although he knew that usually only purebloods were accepted into Slytherin House.

Severus Snape was House Master of Slytherin, as he had been for many years. A week or so after term began, he started to comment on the unusual girl. "Supposed to be muggle-born," he said, "but she's incredibly talented."

Before Snape could go on to criticise the daughter he still loved, Harry interrupted, saying quietly, "Julia Moore is my daughter."

Snape gaped at him, not knowing quite how to react, and wound up saying very little. But Julia was now immune from any unwarranted attacks by Severus Snape, who might have otherwise been inclined to give her as difficult a time as some of the students had started to do

Slytherins put a lot of emphasis on being of pureblood wizarding family, and when Harry came across a few girls facing Julia one day, one of the girls hailed him. "Excuse me, sir, Moore is saying that you're her father. That's not true, is it?"

Harry looked at Julia, and surprised a look of naked appeal in her eyes. Apparently it was better to be illegitimate than muggle-born, at least in Slytherin. So, perfectly coolly, he replied, "Yes, that's true, Julia is my daughter. And why are you not in class?"

The girls, taken aback, scattered.

Julia had an easier time after that. She may still have been only a halfblood, but Harry Potter was known to be a very powerful wizard, and Julia gained a lot of prestige from the connection. She also found out a lot of things about her father that she had not previously known, Harry not being in the habit of talking about his unusual talents or his past achievements.

She found a fascination with Voldemort, the very powerful Dark Wizard, whom Harry, at the age of seventeen, had finally killed, and combed the library for books on him, reading about the Dark Lord's extensive knowledge of magic, and of the army of wizards, witches and magical creatures that he had once had at his command. A secret desire began to grow within her. She wanted to be so powerful that no-one would ever stand in her way.

Her desire was not as secret as she thought. Harry Potter had a very good idea of his daughter's preoccupation, but said to Ginny that, if it came to it, someone else would have to defeat her. He would not go against his own daughter.

The year passed quickly. Julia had a high degree of magical talent, and Snape once commented on her talent especially for Potions. She certainly did not take after her father in that subtle art.

Summer holidays came around again, and Julia spent most of them with Harry and his family. Julia's parents were now quite frightened of her, and were only too happy for Harry to take responsibility.

A second year passed quietly at Hogwarts for Julia, the only incident of note being when Harry came across her tormenting a younger girl. Harry rebuked her harshly, taking 10 points from Slytherin and putting her on detention. Harry rarely put anyone on detention, and he eventually referred the matter to Julia's House Master to arrange the punishment. Snape was happy to oblige, comprehending the awkwardness of Harry's position, although expressing the view that the matter was very minor - "After all, bullying is an honoured tradition in Slytherin," he sneered.

Harry replied hotly, "Well, _I_ think it's perfectly despicable! _No-one_ should torment others merely because they are weaker!" and he stalked off in a rare temper.

Snape gave some thought to his views, remembering some humiliating episodes in his own past, when he had been the victim of Harry's father, James Potter. He recalled the unique powers of Harry Potter, and suddenly thought that it was a very good thing that he was so adamant against hurting those weaker than himself. Julia wound up processing some perfectly revolting slugs in Snape's office as punishment.

Julia's relations with Harry were contradictory. She respected and admired him, and sometimes it would seem that he was the only one who could make her obey a command when she didn't choose. But there was also resentment there. She had no issues with him over her illegitimate birth, but she hated having her will over-ridden. While Harry left her mainly to make her own way at school, there had still been times when she had been the recipient of his criticism.

In the later part of that school year, Harry discovered a rather puzzling change of attitude toward him among some of the senior boys. They had started a duelling club, and one of the sixth year boys was undisputed champion among the students. Harry's reputation as a fighter still hung about him, but he had not had to fight for some years, and perhaps some of his students didn't quite believe what they had heard.

The first challenge to duel surprised him very much. He answered that of course he wouldn't duel, that he never duelled, and especially not with students! And it was a thoroughly foolish pastime in any case! But young Davenport persisted until Harry lost patience and rated him so severely for his insolence, that he provoked some considerable resentment.

No doubt Davenport would have given up then, but the sly little voice of a beautiful black-haired girl had far too much influence.

One day, as Harry was walking toward Hagrid's hut, a voice called, "Harry Potter, duel!"

He spun around instantly, and batted the stunner to the ground. He was furious, his own wand seemed to be instantly in his hand, and Davenport's wand was sent flying. He strode toward the petrified boy. His scar was blazing in his anger and his own wand was still raised. He knew he had nearly been killed by this idiot boy, and did not trust himself to mete out an appropriate punishment. Instead, he marched the boy to Professor McGonnagal, the head of his house, for punishment.

Minerva McGonnagal was appalled, knowing how close Harry had come to being killed. She was as furious as Harry, and consulted with Dumbledore. Davenport could not give an adequate reason for his actions, and it was quickly ascertained that he was not acting under the Imperius Curse. The influence of Julia never came to light.

In the end, 100 points were taken from Gryffindor, and James Davenport was suspended for three months, during which time he came to his senses. He found it hard to believe how he could have been so stupid as to challenge the foremost Fighter of his day.

The summer holidays came around. Ginny was pregnant again, feeling very ill, and she pointblank refused to have Julia stay that year. So Julia spent her holidays with her parents, who no longer dared even a mild rebuke. At thirteen, she was starting to develop new curves of the body, her face had fined down, and she had a glow of purest beauty, which in the next years would become even more eye-catching.

Julia had a good holiday. She did as she pleased, and what she pleased that year was to experiment with sex. She ignored the boys of her own age, and even those several years older, and finally settled on a newly married man in his mid twenties. Even with no experience, she took only a very short time to have what she wanted - a practised lover, a besotted fool to do as she bid, and presents lavished upon her.

She tired of him after a short time, and went on to try out a fair few of the other better looking men of the town, indifferently leaving ruined marriages in her wake. Julia adored sex, and could radiate an aura of sexual attraction. Maybe it was one thing she had in common with her father, although Julia used it more consciously and ruthlessly than Harry ever did, and not just for sex.

In the last weeks of the summer holiday, she seduced the local vicar, then blackmailed him into giving her a very large amount of money, to her own complacent satisfaction, and to the near destruction of a good man.

Once Julia returned to school, the poor man, overcome with guilt, went to her parents and told them what had happened. The man could have found himself in prison for the crime of having sex with a minor, but Edward and Rachel knew their daughter, and the man was never charged, leaving town instead, feeling a lot older and sadder than when he had arrived a few years before.

Competent witches never have unwanted pregnancies, and venereal disease is virtually unknown among Wizardkind, so Julia never suffered any of the repercussions that a muggle girl might have done.

Back at school, she was seldom seen without a following of devoted students, boys and girls. She had discovered a voracious sexual appetite, and was well known among the better looking boys of the senior years, none of whom, however, presumed to treat her, or talk of her, with anything less than devotion and respect, sometimes bordering on fear.

Girls were not immune from her attentions either, and she shared intimacies with her dormitory mates, all of them learning and experimenting. Two of the young girls were reluctant at first, but Julia exerted her will, and they, too, were soon fully under her spell, and doing whatever she wanted.

It was only three weeks into the start of the school year. Harry had not yet been told of Julia's holiday escapades, and was absorbed in his concerns with Ginny, who continued to have a difficult and sick pregnancy.

Julia was flying high, it seemed to her that her father was the only one to stand in her way. She was not at this stage even sure why or how much he stood in her way. Her motives were confused. But she lay in wait for him one day, as he passed the Transfiguration classroom, and called out to him. He turned to her, but spun around as he heard the threatening hiss of a spell behind him.

It was only a Lollylegs hex, wielded by one of Julia's devoted followers, but it caught Harry full in the chest, and he fell, instantly unconscious.

A look of gloating satisfaction crossed the face of his daughter, but the look quickly changed to one of uttermost distress. Harry was very badly hurt. Maybe he was going to die. Julia thought that she hadn't meant to really hurt him. And yet it was universally known among the student body that Harry Potter could not take spells, and had once been nearly killed by a deflected Lollylegs Hex in this same corridor.

Harry was lying on his back, legs bent back to the side, one arm outflung. He was scarcely breathing. Professor McGonnagal was the first teacher on the scene, and groaned, "Oh, Harry!" and she sent students scurrying to get Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, while she knelt beside him, trying to find a pulse.

Madam Pomfrey arrived very quickly, with Dumbledore only a few seconds behind. Madam Pomfrey, like McGonnagal, at first found difficulty in finding any pulse, and even when she opened his shirt, and laid a hand over his heart, she could feel nothing at first, until the faintest of flutters rewarded her wait.

"He must not be moved yet," she said, professionally calm, "And no noise."

Close by, Julia was loudly hysterical, and Harry opened his eyes to the sound of her shrieking sobs, but she was quickly steered away by an older boy. The girl who had obeyed Julia and made the spell, had fled. But other students now surrounded them, waiting to see what would happen.

Harry made no move. It came to him that he was dying, but he must speak to Dumbledore.

"Albus," he murmured, and Dumbledore moved close.

A slight frown crossed Harry's face, "Send them all away," he said, "I don't want to be watched."

At a word from Dumbledore, Snape and McGonnagal cleared the corridors, and waited themselves at a short distance. Madam Pomfrey still had her hand on his chest, over his heart, finding difficulty in monitoring the faint and erratic beat.

"Poppy," Harry said, "Can you leave me a minute?"

The nurse looked at Dumbledore, who gave her a nod, and she reluctantly withdrew.

Harry's eyes wandered for a moment, and he said peevishly, "They should not have taken my glasses." Dumbledore didn't answer. Harry's glasses were still on his face.

"What is it, Harry?" prompted Dumbledore.

Harry's eyes returned to his face. "It was Julia," he said, "You have to try and help her - she wants too much to be powerful - like Voldemort. Can you try..." and his eyes wandered again. What was he trying to say? - "Look out for her, try... try and bring her back?"

"I'll do my best, Harry." said Dumbledore, knowing now that Harry believed himself to be dying.

Harry's gaze wandered again, and at a sign from Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey approached and again sought for some hint of recovery. She met Dumbledore's eyes, and she said again, "We must not move him."

Harry suddenly spoke again, "I'd like to see Ginny."

Dumbledore said, "Severus, do you think you could get Ginny?"

Snape nodded and strode away, to apparate at Harry's place, and tell Ginny of the calamity that had occurred. Harry waited, he was dying, and he knew he was dying. But as long as no-one tried to move him, it was not quite yet. He did not close his eyes. Soon he would, but not yet.

Fifteen minutes went by, and he still lay unmoving, unspeaking. Hedwig was there, nudging his hand and making soft noises of distress.

Ginny arrived finally, and she dropped to her knees beside him. A moisture was about her eyes, as she took his hand between both of hers, but she was calm and in control.

Harry smiled at her and said, "It's been good, hasn't it?"

She knew exactly what he meant, and affirmed, "Yes, it's been very good."

Dumbledore was conferring with Madam Pomfrey. There was something he wanted to try that he'd had in mind for years. He wanted to treat the underlying lesion on Harry's back, the slightly reddened swelling that had been present since he was hit by a Death Curse so many years ago. He was sure that this was the root cause of Harry's sensitivity to spells. It was a desperate attempt, and Dumbledore had never even raised the subject until it appeared that Harry could not be saved in any other way.

Madam Pomfrey informed Ginny and Harry that Dumbledore wanted to try something, an attempt at a cure. Dumbledore hurried to his office. There was a certain book he wanted to check. Harry had no hope that Dumbledore could cure him with more magic. He thought that even moving him would be the end. It was so close now.

Ginny asked, "Do you want to see the twins - or Julia?"

But Harry said No, that he just wanted her to stay with him a little while.

Harry's gaze had wandered from her face. He was looking at something there that no-one else could see, and he smiled at the faces of his parents, so close, and the great black dog that was with them. There was just that line that he had to cross...

He looked back at Ginny, "If Dumbledore wants to try something, it had best be very soon," and Ginny looked in distress at Madam Pomfrey.

But Dumbledore was back now, asking Harry if he agreed to the intervention he had in mind. Harry gave his consent, he always did what Dumbledore said...

Dumbledore got out his wand, and Harry, as gently as possible was turned over on his face, and his back exposed.

Harry's heart paused in its beat at the movement and his world faded to blackness. Dumbledore worked his magic, and the slightly swollen area became normal, except for a residual whitened mark.

Harry was still alive, although he was deeply unconscious now. After another twenty minutes of just waiting, he was finally lifted onto a stretcher and taken to Madam Pomfrey's hospital.

***chapter end***


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 6:_

For a week Harry lay still deeply unconscious. That state changed, but it was not to become aware. Instead, he was living in nightmares. He didn't seem to know what was happening, and fought when they tried to feed him potions or food. His weight was monitored with a device that only had to be touched to his skin, and it showed a continuing deterioration. It became increasingly important that he should be persuaded to eat, but he would take only a little water.

Hedwig was often perched on his bedhead, but she became too upset, once even flying into the face of John, who was trying to get a potion into Harry. She was banished from the ward.

Ginny, although unwell herself, was with him constantly, and was able to explain to Madam Pomfrey and Hermione what was happening. She had been married to Harry for several years now, and knew the symptoms of his nightmares. He had told her once that it was always about confinement and helplessness. He was terrified of being drugged and imprisoned, and when he violently knocked aside a helping hand that was trying to feed him some soup, she was sure that in his confused state, he had become convinced that he was surrounded by enemies. He didn't work any magic, though, for which everyone was profoundly grateful. Harry Potter could have been terribly dangerous with his powers still intact, but his mind confused.

Ginny's voice was the only one to whom he sometimes paid attention, but they didn't allow her to try and feed him, or even to get too close, as he was too likely to hurt her. Ginny was pregnant and not at all well, but she stayed with him, trying to soothe him with her voice.

Sometimes it worked, and he would fall into a deeper, more peaceful sleep when she succeeded.

Julia's role in her father's illness was not known to his carers. She had been sent home for a couple of weeks, as she was in such deep distress. Dumbledore, mindful of Harry's words, had a serious talk with her there. He soon saw that her parents were frightened of the girl, and concluded that it might be best to keep her at Hogwarts under his eye.

Once returned to Hogwarts, she begged Madam Pomfrey to help care for Harry, or, humbly, even just to help around the ward. Madam Pomfrey saw her hurt, and allowed her a role in the hospital.

Another two weeks went by, and matters were getting desperate. Harry was starving himself to death, and would really have done better in a muggle hospital, with their different philosophies on invasive medicine.

Julia, after repeated begging, was finally allowed to try feeding Harry some soup. At first, he blocked her with an arm across his face, but Julia grabbed his arm, restraining him. Madam Pomfrey had not tried direct force before, and she waited and watched as Julia persevered, continuing to speak to him firmly, pushing aside his attempts to block her, and persistently pushing the spoon between his lips.

Harry became increasingly frantic, and finally wrenched himself right out of bed, ending up in a corner, looking a lot like a wild animal at bay.

Ginny screamed at Julia, "Enough!" and went herself to Harry, risking being hurt. She put an arm around his trembling body, now so thin. His eyes were open, but he did not seem to see. He offered her no hurt. Instead his violent trembling began to calm, and when she told him that he was to be lifted back into bed, he did not resist. She stayed next to him, holding him close. His head turned to her, and he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

When Harry woke next with the usual jumble of muttered words, she was still close, holding him. When he was gently raised, and she fed him some ice-cream, he took the first food he had had for weeks, before going back to sleep.

It seemed that Ginny was the only one who could penetrate his confusion, but she was getting very tired, not well enough for the strain. Neither Hermione nor Madam Pomfrey, nor even Dumbledore had any influence with Harry, who still fought against being fed or being handled by anyone but Ginny.

Dumbledore finally noticed that Julia was spending a lot of time in the hospital and banned her, thinking that it was bound to disturb Harry, whether in his right mind or not. So Ginny stayed with him, feeding him soups and gruels and ice-cream. Even for his wife, he would sometimes resist the soups and gruels, and he wouldn't tolerate any potions, but she could always persuade him to take the ice-cream.

In the next few days, he became quieter and more docile, until Hermione, talking to him gently all the while, tried to feed him some ice-cream. This time, he took it without demur.

Now that Harry was easier to manage, Hermione and Madam Pomfrey were able to take some of the load off Ginny. Hermione put her foot down, and said that she had to go home, to look after herself and the unborn child. Ginny was very weary, and she, too, worried about this new little son or daughter, and agreed.

Harry became even quieter over the next few days. He still did not appear to be aware of what was happening around him, though often his eyes were open and wandering.

Dumbledore called in his old friend, Healer John Rutledge, who had seen Harry before, although many years ago now. Rutledge was an old man, and retired from his practice, but his knowledge and experience were immense, and Hermione, who had begun to despair, was glad to have the opportunity to talk to him.

Rutledge gave Harry a thorough physical examination, which he gave no indication of even noticing. Afterwards, the healer brought out his Nisco Monitor, but looked at the readings with shock and then resignation. The LV reading was extremely low, as was the energy reading. He thought Harry was dying, although to Hermione, it seemed that he was a bit better than he had been.

The ensuing discussion was grave, but then Harry did something unexpected. He raised a hand to his face, a frown of displeasure appeared, and he raised both hands to his cheeks and the beard growth vanished. His carers stared blankly, and Hermione finally approached him, calling to him, trying to rouse him, but he was deeply asleep again.

Hermione turned to Rutledge, saying, "Well, I think he's going to get better, whatever your monitor says," and Rutledge, still staring at Harry in blank bemusement, said, "Maybe you're right!"

Hermione had been away from her practice for over a month, now, with a locum covering for her, and had no intention of returning yet. She wanted Harry better, and was willing to put a lot of effort into that. She bought herself her own Nisco monitor, like the one that Rutledge had. It was expensive and rather hard to procure, but it was supposed to be a very accurate way of measuring underlying vigour, while other signs could be ambiguous. She wasn't sure how useful it was, though. According to the leaflet on interpreting the readings, an LV reading of 20 or less indicated a strong likelihood of imminent death, and a reading of less than 10 should have meant no possibility of recovery. But Harry's reading appeared fairly consistent at just 3 or 4, and he was, at least, not getting any worse.

He was making little trouble now, and had ceased to fight when they tried to feed him, although he refused to take potions. He was still living in a world of dreams, his eyes open, but wandering. There was no recognition for his carers, and he never spoke. Hedwig was allowed back in, and once Poppy saw him gently stroking her as she nudged his hand.

His heartbeat still showed a sinister irregularity, and he was extremely thin. But three days after he had suddenly removed weeks of beard growth, apparently in his sleep, John, the hospital assistant, noticed his eyes open, glittering from the haggard face, as he watched him sweep the floor.

John crossed to him, and said, "Hello, Harry," and Harry answered, "John."

He finally knew where he was, and his nightmarish dream world ceased to plague him. But even in the time John took to fetch Madam Pomfrey, who was alternating shifts with Hermione, he had gone back to sleep. Another nurse had been hired, who looked after the sick or injured students accommodated from time to time.

Harry's delirium had been very upsetting for some of these students to witness, but Dumbledore would not consider allowing him to go to St. Mungo's, where he probably would have been worse, thinking himself a prisoner. He might well have been in danger from his persistent attackers, too.

More often and for longer intervals, his eyes would be open, glittering in the painfully thin face. He was looking for Ginny, worried that she had been hurt or was sick, but somehow frightened to ask. At last, Dumbledore guessed what he needed to know, and told him that Ginny was at home, not very well, but not severely sick. The baby was due in a few months, and she had to be looked after.

Harry gave a sigh of relief and lines of tension on his face relaxed.

Dumbledore asked him. "Why didn't you ask, Harry, if you were worried?"

Harry dropped his eyes, ashamed. "I thought I hurt her."

Dumbledore answered him gently, "You were delirious for a time, but you hurt nobody and worked no magic."

Harry continued very weak. He was piteously thin, and could not seem to gain any weight, although he was eating most of what he was given. One day, Julia entered the hospital on the pretext of visiting a friend, but she immediately approached Harry, especially when she saw that he was awake.

Harry was shaking, he was not even sure himself whether it was with fury or with fear. But he snarled at his beautiful daughter, to the shock of Hermione, who was close, "Get away from me," and Julia flinched and ran. And he gave firm instructions to Hermione and to Madam Pomfrey, that Julia was to be kept right away from him.

They thought at first that he was being unwarrantably cruel, until Dumbledore backed him up. It was only then that they started to wonder if the Hex he'd been hit with was other than the accident it was supposed to have been.

Julia was very subdued these days. Her followers found that she was no longer interested in them, and she devoted herself to her studies, to the exclusion of most other pursuits. She didn't give up sex, but she only used one boy at a time, and left her dorm mates alone.

The Nisco Monitor quickly became Hermione's favourite new toy, and she used it constantly until Harry wished it at Kingdom Come. The LV reading remained very low, but she was surprised at the sensitivity of the energy readings, which fluctuated with Harry's activity level. After a time, she knew before Harry did when he was ready to collapse, and when he had a little spare energy for talking.

More weeks passed, and Hermione now spent as much time with Ginny as she did with Harry. Ginny was not at all well, complaining of feeling tired and sick, until Hermione became convinced that Ginny was pining for Harry, as Harry was pining for Ginny.

Harry was a little stronger, at least able to go to the bathroom by himself, even though he used a cane to help with his balance, so she suggested to Madam Pomfrey and to Dumbledore that he should be sent home to be with Ginny. She would stay there for a time herself, as long as needed. Dumbledore agreed, only suggesting that one of the hospital assistants might be able to be spared to help look after Harry for at least the first couple of weeks. While he was a touch stronger, his heartbeat continued irregular, and Hermione had given up expecting it to normalise.

Rumours had spread that Harry was being sent home to die, and looking at the wasted figure with the glittering eyes, it was easy to see why. Harry was not sure himself whether he was going to be able to recover. There was a problem, he knew. As long as the heart was not working as it should, it was going to be very difficult to make much progress.

The trip was a risk. Hermione thought that Harry was still unstable - that any shock might be fatal, but the potential benefits to his overall wellbeing, as well as to Ginny's, warranted the risk. Apparation was thought to be the safest, and certainly the quickest of the methods of travel open to them.

John, quite illogically, was flattered that he had been the first person that Harry spoke to when he woke, and was pleased to volunteer to help with his care. So he was sent on ahead, and Ron came to apparate with Harry as the passenger. Hedwig, too, was sent home.

Harry was helped into a wheelchair, having refused to be stretchered out of Hogwarts. To his surprise, Mark and Bedwin, two aurors whom he knew, arrived also, to act as bodyguards. But the planned move had been reported in the newspaper, and there was always the possibility of potential killers seizing the opportunity of an ambush.

Even the short trip in the wheelchair over the bumpy ground taxed his strength, and his head was drooping when they went out through the main gates. There was a small group of people waiting to see him, a reporter, two photographers, and several others. It was one of these others that called out to him, taunting him, "Going home to die, I hear, Potter!"

Harry raised his head, his eyes very much alive. "You'd better hope that I do die - I have an excellent memory for faces," and he lifted his hand, still looking at the man, who recoiled with a look of sick fear, spun on his heel, and fled.

Harry continued the movement but only scratched his nose as his thin frame shook with laughter. Mark and Bedwin had their wands out and ready, but it appeared that there were to be no threats today, except that photographs were taken that showed the haggard face of Harry Potter and the glittering eyes that proved the spirit still alive and well.

Another of the spectators was a man called Andrew Smith-Burton, who added a print of the scarecrow with the glittering eyes to his growing collection of photographs and books on Harry Potter.

Ron helped him out of his chair, and reminded him of what he had to do, to be an apparation passenger - just make sure and _not_ think of directions, or apparation, or destinations, or it could go wrong.

Harry obeyed, and was instantly conveyed to the apparation zone in the grounds of his own home, where he staggered violently, nearly bringing Ron down with him. John was waiting with another wheelchair, and they helped him into it. Hermione appeared, and instantly went to him. He had become even more pale now, and she took his pulse. There was no real change - it was always rather feeble and erratic these days.

They took him back across the grounds, and his head drooped lower. Ginny waited for him, herself looking tired and haggard. The wheelchair would not go up the steps, and Ron took the easy way, picking up his half fainting friend, and carrying him to the large bed in a newly prepared bedroom on the ground floor, modified for the invalid. And so Harry was tucked up in his own bed, and Hermione, with one glance at Ginny, ordered her to bed, too.

When she checked on the pair, not long later, she looked with satisfaction at them fast asleep in each other's arms, each looking happier than they had for a long time.

Ron and Hermione established themselves in a guest room upstairs, and John also had a bedroom in the large house. The rambunctious twins were staying with Molly Weasley for a time, although responsible ten year old Adam was still home.

Harry slept contentedly for some hours, although Ginny woke for lunch.

Hermione checked Harry, when Ginny rose, although not waking him. She checked his pulse, and used her monitor, surprised and pleased to find that while the energy levels were still very low, the more significant LV reading was suddenly higher, not much maybe, but it was still a significant improvement. She congratulated herself that she had given him the best medicine possible, his own home and his own beloved mate.

Ginny improved in health almost straightaway now that Harry was home, and although Harry continued very thin, he was happy to be home, and got himself around with a bit more strength and confidence. Hedwig visited him frequently, but Hermione and Ginny thought it a good sign that the owl apparently did not feel it necessary to keep a constant watch.

It was only a couple of days later, and Ginny had made sure that no-one was in earshot. Rather pink, Ginny raised a question with Hermione. She was asking if sex would be bad for Harry.

Hermione was a bit surprised, saying that it would be months yet before that question was likely to arise, thinking privately that maybe it never would, with that heartbeat continuing so abnormal.

Ginny's colour deepened further, "You think I should have refused him then?"

Hermione looked at her in amazement. "You don't say..."

Ginny nodded - "This morning."

Hermione was flabbergasted, and then suddenly went into peals of laughter, "Only Harry," she choked, "Only Harry," and finally said that as long as it made him happy, it would do him no harm.

Ginny was smiling now, and said, "Oh, yes, it made him happy," and when Harry woke after having slept late, Hermione found a new rise in the LV readings on her beloved monitor. According to the pamphlet that came with the monitor, the readings were still so low that they meant imminent death, but it seemed that Harry hadn't read the literature, and continued a slow improvement, although still little more than a walking skeleton

Hermione and Ron stayed for several more nights, mostly because Hermione worried that he would suddenly die in the night, upsetting Ginny. But Harry didn't die, and they returned to their own home. Hermione continued to make twice daily trips to check on him, and Ron looked in frequently, too.

Harry was still very weak, but was no longer spending a lot of time sleeping. He tried the best way he knew to regain strength, but was apt to push himself too far, and more than once had to be picked up off the floor and taken back to bed. John stayed on, and kept a close watch on his charge.

A surprise came at this time. Harry Potter, (Order of Merlin, First Class) was invited to join the Wizemgamot, the Wizard High Court. Harry was astounded. He had thought that he had too many enemies within the Ministry to ever be granted this sign of ultimate acceptance, although normally any person with an Order of Merlin would have received such an invitation long since. He immediately had his secretary send an acceptance, to be taken up as soon as his health permitted. He wondered if he would ever have received that invitation if it was not widely assumed that he was going to die. Any mention of him in newspapers these days, was apt to mention that he was now 'broken in health.'

Harry was right in his surmise. Madam Bones had only had her way when certain powerful wizards dropped their opposition because it looked like his death was imminent.

Christmas came and went. Ginny was now eight months pregnant, but feeling a lot better than she'd been. Harry was happier when the children were about, although sometimes they tired him, and Ginny would have to send them away.

Julia had asked to come, but Ginny stated, "She's not coming, of course," and Harry was relieved. Julia was not wanted at her own home, either, and so spent a Christmas at Hogwarts, where Dumbledore kept as close a watch on her as he could.

Harry was becoming tired of his invalid life. Adam and the girls often kept him amused, but the holidays were over, and they spent most of their days at the local primary school. They were all bright children, and even the six year old twins showed sufficient sense not to talk to muggles about things that muggles were not supposed to know. He couldn't even read these days, his eyes refused to focus, although he hadn't mentioned it to anyone.

Unusually for a wizard, his magic never seemed to deteriorate just because he was ill, and while he might be too weak to cross the room without a cane, he could probably have destroyed that same room with a thought if he had chosen. He never made a display of it, and even Ginny did not know how much he could do, and how easily. Once, when he thought he was alone, he started to stagger to the left, as he often did. Unable to regain his balance, suddenly a newly conjured cane was in his hand in time to retrieve the situation. But Ginny, behind him, was staring.

_**x**_

Harry and Ginny were known to the neighbours, although they had not widely socialised among the muggles. Max, their immediate neighbour, had a soft spot for Ginny, and knew that her husband was very ill. So when he dropped in, the diversion was welcome. Harry was sitting just outside the front door on a park bench he had conjured. John was not far away, making sure that he was not getting over tired.

Harry welcomed Max, and Max was pleased to see him up. Harry was still pitifully thin, but Max was a sensible man, and didn't waste time on useless pity, but instead amused him for an hour with talk about stock prices, cultivation of the land, and his horse breeding. It might appear that the wizard and the farmer would have had little in common, but Harry enjoyed the company of Max, and even if Max sometimes found him a little ignorant for a land owner, he did not hold that too much against him.

Ginny walked back up the long drive way with Max, during which time he quizzed her about her husband's chances of recovery, learning that his current chief problem was boredom. An idea was hatched between them. Ginny was heavily pregnant now, and was a little tired when she returned to Harry's side, but pleased with herself.

The following day, Max returned with a box carried under one arm and a bag in the other. He was shown into the lounge room where Harry was sitting watching a ridiculous serial on TV, which he didn't hesitate to turn off when he saw he had a visitor. He was a little surprised to see Max back so soon, but his company was undoubtedly better than a daytime soapie.

Max put down his bag, and then the box more carefully. He greeted Harry as he opened the box, and picked out an eight week old female Border Collie Pup, which he placed in Harry's lap. Harry, surprised, picked up the pup, studied the bright eyes, and stroked the soft body.

He looked at Max with a question on his face. "It's for you," said Max. "Ginny thought that you'd like it."

A smile lit up his face, and he held the squirming puppy close for a moment. Max was very pleased, although Harry had not even thanked him yet. Harry's head was down, but Max thought that he could see wet eyes. Harry was still very weak. But when he looked back at him and thanked him properly, there were no signs of anything on his face except pleasure and gratitude. Max took himself off, leaving the bag of puppy requirements in the room, and leaving Harry to make friends with the intelligent little animal.

Harry named the little creature Tammy, after a very old movie he'd seen once. Straight away, they formed a close bond. Tammy spent a lot of time at Harry's feet after that, nudging his hand when she wanted attention. Hedwig looked at the pup with a little jealousy, and sometimes flew down to put herself between Harry and the dog. The children soon discovered the joys of having a puppy, and Tammy spent a lot of time with them when they were home. The little dog may have adored Harry, but an invalid is less fun to play with than active children.

***chapter end***


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer:__ This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 7:_

At the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt thoughtfully turned over a letter in his hands, then added it to a pile on his desk. Kingsley no longer worked as an auror, but headed a separate department within the Ministry, and Kingsley had somehow to deal with a series of complaints. Harry's spell-breaking work had ceased with his illness, and people were not happy. Kingsley learned that it was all the fault of the Ministry - Harry Potter should have been better protected, although how Harry could have been protected from a stray accidental spell in the corridors of Hogwarts, no-one could say.

Julia, aside from that talk with Dumbledore, had not been publicly blamed. Even the girl who had worked the spell had not been much punished, although she was shunned by a large part of the student body.

Julia appeared to have escaped punishment, but Dumbledore thought that her own remorse might be punishment enough. He was optimistic that the matter might just be enough to change her course in life. Now she spoke of joining the Ministry of Magic when she left school, confiding to no-one her changed ambition of eventually becoming Minister for Magic. A bit worrying, but better, probably, than having another Voldemort torturing and murdering.

Even after Harry had been home for two full months, he was still as thin as a rake and had little strength. Hermione found him broodingly leaning on the wall of his gymnasium, regarding the exercise equipment that he still couldn't use. It had taken all his strength to walk as far as the gym. And he finally asked Hermione what she thought, whether he was going to be able to get well.

Hermione was thinking of her readings - the LV reading had slowly climbed to 15, but seemed to have stopped at that point, with no further improvement in the last weeks. Harry never asked about the readings from her monitor, appearing to regard them with far more scepticism than Hermione did. If Ginny had not given Harry his instructions, he might have refused to cooperate with Hermione when she wanted to take her readings.

Hermione didn't know what to say. Harry often didn't follow the rules, and she thought that he really should have been dead long since. She wouldn't lie to him, though - she said that she didn't know.

But Harry had a great deal of self-knowledge. He knew there was something not right deep inside, and not just because he had felt his own pulse, with its awkward, erratic beat. And he was entirely honest about his health for a change. "I don't think I _can_ get better. There's something too far wrong." He smiled, "But then, I was sure that I was dying when it happened, and I've had more time since then, and especially, more time with my family. Dumbledore did all right!"

Harry's family was extremely important to him. His youth had been so heavily influenced by Voldemort and the fatal prophecy that he'd never expected to have a family. Two daughters, a beloved stepson, another child on the way, and most of all, the woman he loved with all his heart.

Ginny was reading the Daily Prophet that evening, Harry sitting in his favourite chair, gazing into the fire, Tammy at his feet.

"There's an article about you, Harry," she said, "Want to see?"

"How about you read it to me?" Harry suggested.

Ginny suddenly realised something. "Can't you read, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, "It's happened before, and it got better after a while. It's just that my eyes won't focus."

Ginny said nothing further about his sight, but started to read the article.

Harry was listening, but suddenly started laughing. "You know what it is, don't you? It sounds to me as if it was written as an obituary - they just got tired of waiting for me to die!"

Ginny stared at him, looked back at the article, and she was laughing, too. She went to him, hugged him, and said "I'm glad I've still got you."

Harry's eyes immediately took on that expression of desire that could be so devastatingly effective, and they went to bed and made love. For Harry may not have had the strength to walk far or to do much else, but he always seemed to find enough for his very favourite activity.

Ginny's baby was due any day, and a healer who specialised in deliveries had long since been arranged, and took up residence in the household ready for when Ginny went into labour. It was the same healer who had helped when the twins were born, and both Hermione and Ginny knew her to be very good.

They were worried, not about Ginny, who seemed quite well these days, but about Harry, who was still unstable. Although the twins had been a fairly straightforward delivery for Ginny, and witches with competent healers in attendance did not suffer agonies of pain in childbirth as muggles did, Harry had been frantic with worry that day. Very amusing, of course, for Ron, who'd been looking after him, but Hermione didn't think Harry could survive that sort of worry in his present state, not with that perilously erratic heartbeat.

The women put their heads together and made some plans. An initial idea of slipping a sleeping potion into Harry was abandoned. Ginny didn't think they'd be forgiven if they played such a trick. But the pair of conspirators spoke to a couple of Harry's friends, and arrangements were made. It would only work in the day, though. If Ginny started into labour at night, they only hoped that Harry would not wake until it was over.

Things went according to plan. Ginny's labour started mid-morning, but Harry was not informed. Instead, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape turned up as visitors, telling Harry they had made arrangements and it was time he showed them the whole of his estate. Harry could not walk far, but Dumbledore had brought along a floating wheelchair that Harry could steer as needed. Harry was keen, he had not seen over his own land for quite a while.

An hour later, they were at one of Harry's favourite places, a grove of thick trees, very quiet and private. It was one of Ginny and Harry's special places for love-making, although Harry did not share that piece of information. It was also the place where Julia had spied on them one day in absolute fascination, but no-one but Julia knew about that.

Harry was out of his chair, and the three had just emerged from the trees, when Harry put up his head and looked back in the direction of his house, now out of sight. He murmured "Ginny," and started walking swiftly back in the direction of the house.

Dumbledore called after him, "Harry!" and Harry paused, looking back.

"They don't want you there, Harry," he said.

Harry accused, "You arranged this!"

Snape put in smoothly, "It's no good going to the trouble of having a baby, if the father promptly dies of worry, now is it?"

Harry regarded them for a moment, and then turned, staring again in the direction that he had been heading. He suddenly felt feeble again, and took himself back to the chair. "It's all right," he said, "I think it's over!"

Dumbledore and Snape looked at each other, and when Harry turned his chair to start for home, they walked beside him.

Harry was right. It had been a very quick and easy labour for Ginny, and she was incandescent with happiness. The tiny baby was called James, after Harry's father. Later that day, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry sat together in the loungeroom. The baby had just been fed and changed, and now slept on his father's lap, as Harry examined him in wonder.

The children were in bed. They'd been at school when the baby was born, and had returned to find the new member of the family well established. Adam was fascinated, as Harry was, but the girls thought it a bit boring. The baby really didn't do much, did it?

Finally, Hermione and Ron rose to leave. Hermione just wanted to use the monitor on Harry before they left - make sure that he was all right. Ginny saw Harry's beginning refusal on his face, and said warningly, "Harry," and Harry submitted. Ron and Hermione were amused at Harry's absolute submission to Ginny's command. He had never been at all easy to influence, and not even Dumbledore could always count on such obedience.

To Hermione's wonder and pleasure, the LV reading showed another jump, although the energy levels were very low. She said nothing to Harry, though, he didn't like the monitor and refused to acknowledge that the readings meant anything. Hermione was beginning to suspect, rather, that he disliked it because it showed too much truth!

In the next couple of weeks, Harry's strength increased, and now he was able to walk increasing distances without collapse. Hermione, and Harry, too, would have been more optimistic if only that heartbeat would normalise, but it continued with a sinister, erratic beat. It did continue, however. Harry was still alive, and happy to be so. He was still painfully thin, although not quite as thin as he had been. Ginny didn't mind, it reminded her of their honeymoon. Harry had been thin and weak then, too, and she'd always known what she was taking on when she married the man.

Dumbledore arrived one day with John Rutledge, as Hermione wanted the benefit of his experience. They found Harry in his chair, his baby son asleep on his lap, a young dog at his feet, and Hedwig on a perch close by. Harry's face showed the hollow cheeks and haggard looks still of severe illness, but he wore an air of content.

Harry, with Ginny's stern eye on him, had given permission for Rutledge to come, although he gave his address to very few people. He submitted to the examination, as Rutledge did his measurements and his inspections. He had to acknowledge that Harry was better than he had been, but he still held out little hope. Unless the heart started working as it should, Harry could not regain his health. He had no treatments to suggest, either. Potions no longer seemed to work on him, not even Snape's special potion, that took such skill to make.

It was on this occasion that Hermione noticed some large print books that Ginny had given to Harry, and for the first time, learned that he could no longer see to read. Harry should have told her long ago, of course, but there was nothing she could do in any case.

_**x**_

It was a Saturday, the children were home from school, and Ron and Hermione were visiting. Little James was three weeks old. Ginny had just fed him, and had put him gently in his cradle to sleep. Harry was looking at his first son, with a tender expression on his face, when suddenly he spun around, and exclaimed "Vicky," and he was striding out the door. The others looked after him for a moment, and then followed, puzzled, and not as fast.

Harry was hurrying, almost running, his weakness forgotten. He could summon reserves of energy when needed, and he knew that his little girl was in danger. Adam met him at the door of the house as he went out, gasping, "He's got Vicky!"

Harry strode past him, and Adam repeated to the others, "There's a wizard, He's got Vicky!"

They drew their wands, and hurried as fast as they could after Harry, Ginny only hesitating long enough to tell Adam to watch the baby for her.

Trying to make progress away from the house, down the drive, was a wizard firmly holding one of the twins. His progress was impeded, however, by the other twin, Meg, hitting and kicking at him, and by a young dog, snapping at his ankles. The man stopped, raised his wand and the dog dropped. He pointed it at Meg, then, but suddenly not only his wand, but half his arm vanished as Harry approached.

The wizard gaped, disbelieving, and Vicky escaped from his suddenly loosened grip, running toward her father, but abruptly changing her mind and hurling herself into her mother's arms instead. Valiant little Margaret followed, and Ginny watched, holding a daughter on each side, as Harry and the wizard faced each other.

The wizard was gasping, not apparently in pain, but in shock at the loss of his arm.

"Forget your arm." said Harry in a commanding voice. "Be calm and answer my questions."

The wizard became calm, and stood motionless in front of Harry.

"What were you intending?" Harry asked the wizard in that same cold, commanding voice.

The wizard's voice was toneless as he answered. "I was going to take the child, and exchange it for Potter."

"How did you think that Potter would not kill you?"

"Potter had to be unconscious before I let the child go. And then I would use the Cruciatus curse on him until he was dead. Finally, the Dark Lord would be avenged."

Harry paused, and then continued his interrogation, "What is your name?"

Ron and Hermione waited close, their wands still out. But they were accustomed to letting Harry take control in fighting situations, and even Ron didn't think of taking over, although he was an auror, and maybe should have done. Sensitive Adam watched, too, from the door of the house in the distance.

Harry continued to hold the wizard helpless in front of him, and now his questioning took a different tack. "How did you find out where I lived," and he learned that it had been pure coincidence - the man had overheard some muggle neighbours talking, and come to the right conclusion. He also learned that the man had told no-one what he had learned. His last question was how the man had arrived - it seemed a car was parked on the road outside the large external gates.

Harry regarded the wizard for a moment, considering, and then spoke softly. "Be calm, believe that your arm is restored. Think of something very happy." And the wizard, entranced, was happy, and then he was dead, as Harry squeezed with his mind, extinguishing life. The man fell.

Harry drew his wand, and waved it casually as he turned away. _"Evanesca."_ The spell used to dispose of trivial rubbish worked for the dead wizard. The body vanished.

Harry bent over the dead dog, as one of Harry's security guards raced toward them. He was still looking coolly in control, and gave him instructions on the disposal of the car, either without trace or a long way away. Then he faced his wife and his two best friends. They were staring at him in horror. His strength abandoned him and he staggered, "Don't look at me like that! You're looking at me like I'm a monster!" His knees buckled. "I'm not a monster!" he protested in a fading voice.

"Of course you're not." Ginny had finally got over her shock at the ruthless action of her husband, and was at his side, as the world went black for Harry.

When he woke from his faint, he was back in bed. But something had changed in him, and every day he was a little weaker.

He asked Kevin, the security guard who had disposed of the car to come and see him a couple of days after the execution. Luckily, Kevin had told no-one but the other security guard about the killing, and they were both unquestioningly loyal to Harry and his family. No-one else would ever be told.

The brave little dog was buried, her grave marked with a stone. Adam, rather than having nightmares about executions, as Ginny had expected, thought that Harry was a hero, and spent as much time with him as he could. He had been so terrified of the wizard, but his wonderful stepfather had come to the rescue.

Ginny, Hermione and Ron discussed the cold-blooded execution. It was not that they didn't think that Harry was justified, but they knew he would be in big trouble with the Ministry if it became known. Ron was an auror, and it was probably his duty to arrest Harry, except that Ron's loyalty had been to Harry long before it had been to the Ministry. Maybe he should have resigned, except that it seemed Harry was going to die now anyway.

They had not discussed the incident with Harry, and Harry didn't bring it up. If that wizard had been allowed to live, the security of Harry's home would be forever compromised, and they came to the conclusion that this was why he'd done it. It did not appear to have been for revenge. The death was a lot more merciful than many deaths. All the same, it was against wizard law. Private citizens did not have the law on their side when they performed an execution.

Harry was finally dying. The very little weight he had gained in the last months fell off him, and then some more. He was a skeleton again, and his eyes started to take on that glitter of extreme illness. Hermione visited several times a day, until she and Ron moved back in to the upstairs bedroom. Hermione's readings on her toy showed a constant decline in the vital LV values, every day a little lower.

Dumbledore and Snape visited, distressed at Harry's deterioration, although they had long known that this was likely to happen. Harry said once to Dumbledore, "You're right, you know, each time you kill, it takes something out of you."

He didn't regret it. In his view, it had been a simple necessity. Dumbledore asked the others if there had been a problem, and they admitted there had been something, but gave no further details.

Word spread, and at Hogwarts, the girl who had sent that Lollylegs Hex was given such a terrible time that her parents finally sent her to a French school instead.

It was ten days after the wizard had tried to take his daughter, when Rutledge came again. Harry was so low now that he didn't even bother thinking a protest as he was given a thorough examination. "No more than a few days," said Rutledge to Hermione, when they left.

Ginny was constantly with him. The children were subdued, and they too spent a lot of time in his bedroom. Adam was miserable. He'd already lost one father, and now he was to lose another. Hedwig seldom left the room, except for brief hunting trips. The little dog, of course, was dead. Ginny was going to be a widow again, she was sure, and yet when Harry asked, "Do you regret marrying me?" her heartfelt answer was, _"Never!"_

Harry himself was not unhappy. He was surrounded by the loving family that he had never expected to be able to have. His death had been long expected. Had there not been a promise made that he would not live to his eighteenth birthday? He'd done a long way better than that! He was not in pain, and as long as he could still make it to the bathroom, even if he had to be helped, he didn't find his weakness too distressing.

His friends wanted to give him a last dose of laughter, and certain items of clothing were unearthed that Harry had conjured long ago. The clothing was in livid, amazing colours, that moved and swirled, and images might suddenly appear and disappear. As a joke one Christmas, he had given an item of clothing to Ginny, to Ron, to Severus, to Hermione, and to Albus Dumbledore. Although conjured clothing normally has a short and unpredictable life, these garments did not appear even to have faded.

There was no time left to wait for a weekend, and the children were at school. Harry was leaning his head against the high back of his easy chair. Ron, Ginny and Hermione were ready in the shirts he had made for them. Severus Snape could not bring himself to put his own on, and was in his usual black, but Albus Dumbledore had a whole set of robes, not too untasteful actually, for Harry, in various shimmering blues, with myriads of illustrations of complicated silver instruments going about their business.

They assembled themselves in front of the chair, where Harry gently dozed, and Ginny called out to him.

Harry opened his eyes to the sight of his wife and his good friends, wearing the incredible garments he had conjured, and he shook with laughter, and they were well satisfied.

"What about you, Severus," he asked, "not even for a dying friend?"

Snape shuddered, "Sorry, Harry, I just couldn't."

Harry smiled at him fondly. "Not quite your style!" and his eyes followed Ginny, whose blouse was pulled tight at the buttons - she'd been smaller when he had made her that blouse. He had spent a lot of time on it, it had more colours and more illustrations than that of anyone else's, and was perfectly horrible!

"Nice to think that it might suddenly vanish," he said, provocatively.

Hermione put in. "I notice you're not looking at _me _like that."

But Harry laughed. "I know you, I bet you're wearing something underneath!" and Hermione had to agree that she was.

Albus was walking up and down in front of him, swishing his robes. Harry, seeing them all together, was still laughing, finally gasping, "Maybe you're all right. Maybe I do have bad taste."

The laughter died, and he leaned his head back in his chair, eyes closing.

There was a hush. Ginny went to him. Hermione felt his pulse - he was still alive, barely, but she knew this was the end. She turned to John, "We'll put him back in bed," she said, and large John lifted the scrawny body, and lay him down on his bed.

Hermione asked Ginny, softly, "Do you want to spend some time alone with him?"

Ginny, tears in her eyes, nodded. They had all known that this would soon happen, and all but Ginny took themselves off to another room, where they changed back into normal clothing, the riotous colours no longer seeming appropriate.

Thirty minutes later, Ginny came out of the room. She was no longer in her colourful blouse, she, too, had been wearing something underneath, and now appeared in a plain white T-shirt. "Hermione?" she said, and Hermione followed her.

His friends assumed that Harry had finally died, that Hermione had been called in just to confirm. They were wrong. Harry's heart had certainly stopped beating; it had done that before, each time he had been hit with a spell, and each time, it had managed to start itself up again, feeble and erratic at first, but after a time, varying from hours to days, it had settled back into its normal regular beat.

Hermione was surprised to find a pulse. The pulse was irregular - but there was a difference, and she held Harry's wrist a long time as she concentrated. Was there really a difference? Could she maybe give Ginny some hope? After a time, she opened Harry's shirt, and laid her hand firmly over his heart. The beat could be more clearly felt here, and after a time, she was sure there was a difference.

She tried her favourite toy, then, the monitor, and her heart sank. The reading was scarcely above zero. For a moment she had thought there was some hope, but how could he come back from here?

Irrespective of _The Guide to Interpreting the Findings of a Nisco Monitor_, Harry's heartbeat became stronger and more regular over the next two days, and he eventually opened his eyes. He was frowning, feeling quite illogically, rather aggrieved. How many of these death bed scenes was he going to have to take?

It was evening, and sensible Adam was sitting with him. When the boy saw that he was awake and cried over him, he decided that maybe it was a good idea to pick up the pieces again. Adam had him to himself for a little, before Ginny entered the room. She smiled at Harry. Ignoring what Hermione had told her about the lack of hope, she was positive that Harry was going to live. She had seen his heart stop, she had seen him stop breathing, and she had seen him shudder again a moment later, and start to return to life. Maybe it was a part of his magic, but Harry Potter was very hard to kill!

Magic or not, it is very hard work to bring yourself back from so near death, and it was weeks before Harry could again totter around the house. And yet he felt within himself that things had improved. His heart had finally lost its irregular beat, and when he began to push himself this time, instead of falling in a heap on the floor for John to pick up, he started to slowly become stronger.

March went by, and then April. He started to use his gym again, although he could not yet do much. He could walk much longer distances, though, and, to his pleasure, suddenly discovered that he could read again. Hermione was very pleased with him. Harry had again defied expectations, and Hermione's treasured monitor showed a consistent rise in values every few days when she dropped in.

Julia, back at Hogwarts, continued subdued, and was making no trouble. She seemed to have stopped turning her fellow students into her slaves, and Dumbledore, still keeping a close watch on her, was beginning to be optimistic. He thought that, after all, she might make the right choices in life.

One day, Ron casually mentioned to Harry that he had resigned from the Ministry, and had started his own business, training security guards. Harry frowned. "Was it because of what I did? Have I made a problem for you?"

Ron denied that Harry's actions had anything to do with his decision, but Harry could tell that he lied. And still, he didn't see that he had any choice. He had acted for the security of himself and his family, and the life of a killer was worth nothing beside that. He could not regret killing the wizard who had tried to abduct Victoria, and who had pointed his wand at Margaret.

He brought up the subject with Ginny later, and Ginny pointed out a few home truths. As an auror, Ron should have arrested Harry and taken him straight to Azkaban. He should have been tried for murder. The wizard had been helpless when Harry had killed him. It was not a fighting death, this was an execution.

Harry was quiet, and finally asked Ginny, "Should I have let him live then?"

Ginny said, no, as a mother, she thought total punishment perfectly justified to one who had hurt her children.

Harry thought about what she had told him. Each time he had killed, he had thought it just something that had to be done, and seldom thought about the matter again. But this time, he could have been arrested. It was something to ponder.

***chapter end***


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer:__ This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted, belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 8:_

Harry's muggle neighbour, Max, continued to visit. Max would entertain him with talk of the local doings, although he did not bring him another dog, even though another of his bitches had had a litter of pups. He felt that Harry must have been careless, and was rather upset that the pup had died. But there was something that Max told him that caught Harry's attention. There was a horse sale to be held in the local village shortly, and Harry suddenly thought that maybe a horse was exactly what he needed.

Max looked at the still frail body, and thought that he would not be strong enough to ride a horse, but Harry's eyes were alight with enthusiasm, and when he divulged that he had ridden extensively before, although not for years, Max changed his mind and offered some help.

There were old stables and horse yards on the estate, fallen into disuse now, but they went together and inspected them, and Max noted that Harry was stronger than he looked, walking the distance to the farm buildings without trouble, and with only occasional use of his cane. Max started to take his leave then, only saying that he must say good-bye to Ginny first, while Harry hurried off to find his estate manager to talk about looking after horses.

Max had a quiet word with Ginny before final arrangements were made. Harry was still so thin, and Max knew that Ginny had been fully expecting him to die not so long before. Ginny assured him that he was quite stable now, and even if he became sick or even died, he was just to bring him home, that he had his own personal doctor visiting frequently.

Three days later, a car pulling an empty horse box drove up to Harry's house. Harry was painfully excited. To think that he would have a horse again. He used to love galloping across the Australian plains. He hadn't ridden since his horse had put a foot in a rabbit hole, and been sufficiently hurt to wind up in hospital. He'd returned to England after that. The faded white scar on his left cheek was a legacy of that accident.

Max had a friend with him - a very large young man, introduced as Joe. Joe didn't seem to have any interest in the horses, and Harry suddenly wondered if he was there in case of his own collapse. But he had no intention of collapsing. He felt comparatively healthy and wildly enthusiastic. But to Max and Joe, he still looked extraordinarily thin and frail, and the hollow cheeks were in contrast to the gleaming eyes and the excitement in his voice.

Max was knowledgeable, and finally recommended a bay horse that looked both placid and fit. The gelding was only about 14 hands, but Harry was not a heavyweight, even in normal times, and Max thought that he'd have trouble mounting a taller horse. Harry made friends with the horse, agreeing with Max that he was just what was wanted, and he marked the horse's number in his catalogue.

He strolled around then, using his cane increasingly as he tired, and casually looking at the assortment of horses on sale. As he passed one pen, a despairing neigh followed him. Harry stopped and looked back.

A tall, grey horse had called to him. Its coat was rough, it showed some scars, and it was thin as a rake. Harry went to him, talking to him, running his hands over his body. The horse was nuzzling him, but when it took a step after him as he left, its head bobbed. It was very lame. But Harry marked it, too, in his catalogue. He was going to buy that horse.

Max was scathing. "What do you want that pathetic old crock for?"

But Harry said with humour, "Maybe I have a fellow feeling for him!" The horsebox that Max had brought could accommodate two horses, and Max had a fair idea that Harry did not have to worry about money, so he made no further objection.

Harry was beginning to tire now, and there was no place to sit down, but Max had thought ahead, and a murmur to Joe had him fetching two folding chairs from the car. They stationed Harry away from the crowd, under some trees, and Harry dropped his head and appeared to doze. Joe stayed with him, while Max watched the action and called him in good time to make his bids.

The two horses chosen were close together in the catalogue, and were soon the property of Harry, who had brought plenty of cash along for the purchase. They still couldn't take possession - that had to wait until the auction finished, and Joe took Harry's arm and returned him to his chair while they waited.

Max was just about to suggest taking Harry home, when there was a commotion from the auction ring. Harry was up and walking swiftly toward the ring. A chestnut mare held by three ropes was desperately fighting, and as Harry approached, she lunged at one of the men attempting to savage his hand. Harry's heart bled for her, and he bid against the meat man, as the mare still fought her captors. But even the meat man thought that this horse would be too much trouble, and dropped his bidding almost immediately. Harry's bid won.

To Max's astonishment, Harry then ducked through the fence and went to the mare, saying to the men, in a commanding voice, "Thank you, I'll take her now," and the mare dropped her head, nudging him questioningly. It was not the done thing, but Harry had a presence about him when he chose. The men handed him the ropes, and he led the mare gently away.

The mare followed him closely, her head over his shoulder, and he took her with him to their place under the trees. No-one questioned his right to act as he chose, and all had seen the instant change in the behaviour of the unmanageable horse. Harry had started some comment, which he normally tried to avoid. But these were muggles, and those wizards who wanted him dead were the types who had nothing to do with the despised muggles, so it probably did not matter.

The question then arose as to how to get this horse home. The horse trailer would take the other two, but this horse was terrified of confinement, Harry knew, and this horse, too, Harry had a fellow feeling for. Harry sat back in his chair, looking pale and tired, and the horse stood over him, as close as possible.

Max and Joe stared. They had seen something miraculous. Harry had not used any magic, or none that he knew. It was a telepathic sense that achieved the instant communication between Harry and his horses. He'd never tried to develop his latent telepathic abilities, and he only knew that he had an exceptional understanding with horses.

Max offered to take Harry's money and pay for the horses for him, an offer gratefully accepted by Harry who was beginning to realise that he had tried to do too much again. Horse auctions were more tiring than he had expected, and there was the mare, now, who would not allow anyone but Harry to handle her.

Max loaded the fit bay gelding and the lame grey into his float, but the chestnut mare was a problem. Harry finally stated, "I'll ride her back." It was only a few miles, and he knew that the mare would go gently for him.

The others were doubtful, but when they even approached, the mare would lay back her ears and threaten to bite or kick. There did not seem to be any alternative, so Harry spoke to the mare, who only fidgeted nervously as Joe lifted Harry onto her bare back. And he gradually felt her tension drain away as he spoke to her. She set off gently toward the road, carrying him as if she bore a precious burden. Maybe she knew she had been given a second chance at life with this gentle man who understood her panic.

They covered the first mile at the same slow pace, but Harry was beginning to droop lower and lower. Max and Joe followed him, crawling along with the car and horse float. They were holding up the local traffic, but were unwilling to leave Harry, and they were right. He was not up to this effort and slipped off in a faint when they were only halfway home.

The mare nuzzled him anxiously, lipping at his face and nudging him to get up. And when Max and Joe stopped the car and went to collect their friend, she stood four square over him and refused to allow them near. They had to wait until Harry came around from his faint, to look straight up at an enormous horse head very close and breathing bad breath into his face.

With Harry's persuasion, the mare finally allowed Max to lead her, while Joe took over driving the car. It was a slow trip home, and Harry was very tired. But he made sure that he gave his instructions to Jimmy Carr, the new stable hand - the mare was to be fed, but no attempt was to be made to confine her in any way, except in the large paddock that had been assigned to the horses. Luckily the early May weather was warm, and there was no need for healthy horses to be rugged or stabled. The skinny grey gelding was stabled, and fed with some special gruel by Jimmy, who loved horses and was experienced in their care.

Harry was exhausted and went straight to bed, but Joe and Max stayed a while with Ginny, talking about the horses, and telling Ginny about the miraculous way that Harry had tamed the wild chestnut mare.

"He's got unusual talents, my husband," said Ginny, "But I didn't know about this one!"

Harry was still tired the next day, and slept late. But once up, he didn't even wait for breakfast, but went straight to his horses, although he was leaning on his cane a lot more than he had been in the last few weeks.

The chestnut mare called out to him immediately. She was standing at the paddock fence, head thrown up and ears pricked forward, and he went to her first. The bills of sale for the horses had given brief descriptions and a name. She was called 'Sheba.' Max had passed on to him some information he'd learned, that she'd been a talented show jumper at one time, until she became too hard to handle.

The bay horse, (or pony if you wanted to be pedantic,) now nuzzling him, was called 'Toby,' and was from a disbanded riding stable. The skinny grey gelding, still in the stables, had no name or history provided.

Harry inspected his new friends in the paddock, but made no attempt to ride.

Jimmy Carr soon joined him, and Harry suggested that the grey be brought out to enjoy the sunshine and the grass, although, for a time, he agreed with Jimmy that he should be stabled at night. The horse was limping painfully when Jimmy led her out. Harry ran his hands over him. The horse was in very poor condition, and looked as if it had never been groomed in its life.

Harry carefully felt the injured shoulder that was causing the limp, concentrating his mind to feel the problem, and then bringing his magic into play, to ease pulled and painful muscles. He didn't know whether this horse would ever be rideable again, but as he'd said to Max, he had a fellow feeling for the old crock. He continued to run his hands over the horse, finding other sore spots, and easing them with his magic.

Jimmy was not a wizard himself, but was a squib, which meant that Harry could work his magic without worrying about secrecy. But Jimmy was also very knowledgeable about horses, and was able to make a fair guess at the age of the horse. He didn't think that this horse was anything like as old as he looked. After his thorough inspection, he brought out a brush and gave the neglected animal a gentle grooming. The grey gelding nudged his carers, whickering in gratitude. It had been a long time since that horse had experienced anything in the nature of care.

Harry had come to the end of his strength again, and looked at the house, 500 yards away. Rather than attempt to walk, he had Jimmy bring Toby from his paddock, conjured a mounting block for himself, and pulled himself onto Toby's back. The bay pony bore him gently back to the house, after which Jimmy returned him to the field, leaving Harry to collapse in his chair for a time.

Harry had found a new interest, and when Max and Joe called around a couple of days later, they found him surrounded by his horses in the large paddock. The grey scarcely limped any more, although it would take a while before that abused animal would be fit. The chestnut retreated at their approach, but she no longer trembled and showed no sign of viciousness. Everyone, especially the children, had strict instructions not to approach that horse, and she was becoming calmer every day.

"How are they going?" Max called to Harry.

Harry grinned at him, "Just great," he said. "Just great," and he thanked them for their help, and apologised for being such a trouble. He still hadn't thought of a name for the grey, and asked if they had any ideas.

Max had a closer look at him, and agreed with Jimmy that maybe the animal was not as much of a pathetic old wreck as he had first thought.

"Have you ridden them yet"?" asked Joe.

"Only the bay, Toby," said Harry, and whistled.

Toby came to him, Harry slipped a rope rein on his halter, and used a mounting block to scramble on. And then sedate Toby pranced around the paddock, looking as pleased as possible at his job. Harry returned to his muggle friends, slipping off the horse's back, but holding onto the mane until he was safely standing beside him. He always hated the indignity of falling when others were watching, and he still often fell when dismounting. "See, he's great. It was a good choice."

He whistled again, a slightly different whistle, and the chestnut approached, looking suspiciously at the others, but nuzzling Harry. "This is Sheba." he said proudly. "She was the show jumper." A frown crossed his face. "Goodness knows what they did to her!"

He continued to talk enthusiastically about his horses to the amusement of Max and the boredom of Joe, until he suddenly remembered the obligations of a host, and they made their way back to the house, where Ginny had an afternoon tea prepared.

Harry loved his horses, and they helped keep him amused during the tedium of his convalescence. His strength was slow to return, and he remained very thin. Harry had been severely ill before, and should have been more patient with himself now, but he was still apt to push himself too much.

There was no need for John any more, but he was dating a woman in the village. Although well into his forties, he'd never before been involved with a woman. Harry made a worker's cottage on the estate available to him, and he stayed on very happily as a farm worker. John was a squib, and had lived with fear and a feeling of disgrace in the wizarding world, but he was not the only squib that Harry had hired, and felt happy and safe under Harry's wing.

The children were initially enthralled with the horses, but only Adam's interest had lasted. Adam and Harry would often ride over the paths of his estate, Harry on Sheba, Adam on Toby. None of the children had the instant rapport with horses that Harry did, and Ginny frankly felt that a broomstick was infinitely superior to a horse that could not even fly!

The tall grey horse was finally named by the children. He was now called 'Seawind.'

In May, Dumbledore and Snape came to see Harry. Harry was playing on a glossy chestnut mare, much as he used to play on his broomstick. They galloped and frolicked, the mare bucking and rearing and curvetting. Harry clung on to her bare back like a limpet, his eyes agleam with excitement, a grin of pleasure on his face. But when he noticed the pair watching him, the mare stopped and threw her head up, looking at the two powerful wizards, whose capes whipped out in the wind. At an indiscernible sign from Harry, she walked sedately toward them.

But as he dismounted, Dumbledore saw that he was still extremely thin, that although he was no longer as haggard, the cheeks were hollow, and he clung for a moment to the horse's mane while he regained his balance.

Harry was interested in showing Dumbledore that he was quite fit enough to return to work after the summer holidays, and although he often used Sheba to ride back to the house, this time he unclipped her reins from the halter, (really only there in case his muggle neighbours caught him,) and he walked, concealing the fact that after his play with the mare, he was again tired out.

Max had just come to visit, and Ginny, not knowing that Snape and Dumbledore were there, sent him to the horse paddock to find Harry. So Max was a witness to Harry, in his casual normal clothing, looking entirely comfortable walking in step with Snape and Dumbledore, who looked purely and simply what they were, great and powerful wizards. He saw what he hadn't seen before, that Harry had that same air of power as the older men.

He stopped where he was, just watching warily. When Harry saw him and courteously introduced them, he was stiff, and left as soon as he could do so with a degree of politeness.

Harry looked after him with concern. He valued highly the friendship of Max, and didn't want to lost it, just because Max had suddenly discerned that he was something different.

He raised the issue of returning to work after the school holidays, but Dumbledore was hesitant, and insisted on Harry having a thorough examination first, maybe in a month or so, before he would allow him to return to work.

It was time to discuss Julia. Harry had avoided thinking about her when he had been so sick, but that was behind him, he felt, and problems had to be faced. Snape was the House Master for Slytherin, and had watched her progress with fascination and respect, mixed with some worry, since she arrived. He had never been told that she was instrumental in having Harry hit by a spell, but he had a strong suspicion that she had something to do with it, and was not surprised when his suspicion was confirmed.

Harry had not seen Julia except for that brief glimpse in hospital, and did not remember the incident when Julia had tried so hard to get him to take some nourishment. No-one was about to remind him.

Dumbledore and Snape told him all they knew about Julia's current conduct and ambitions, and Harry was hopeful that maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe her distress at Harry's near death had been enough to change her course in life. All the same, he was not willing to have her near his family for the summer holidays until he had spoken to her himself. On the other hand, it didn't seem fair to leave her with Edward and Rachel.

It was arranged that the following Monday, Dumbledore would have Julia come to his office, to be spoken to by Harry with Dumbledore present also. By this stage in his life, Harry had a lot of faith in his own abilities to discern truth from lies, but Dumbledore was infinitely more experienced.

In the days after, Harry gave a lot of thought to the discomfort of Max when he had seen him with Snape and Dumbledore. There were memory modification spells of course, but the older Harry became, the more he disapproved of meddling with other people's minds, and Max was a friend, who had gone to a lot of trouble to help Harry.

In the end, he had Jimmy saddle Toby, finding a saddle a lot more comfortable than bareback riding, and rode over to Max's house, next door, half a mile down the road.

Max had not told his wife what he had seen. He was not sure himself what he had seen, except Harry with a couple of older men, dressed in unusual and rather impressive clothes. His wife welcomed Harry whom she had not previously met. She offered him coffee, and sent a message to Max, who appeared shortly after, still looking distinctly uneasy in the presence of Harry. But Harry only looked his ordinary skinny self, and Max started thinking he was imagining things. Maybe he just knew somebody of some strange religion or something.

Max bred horses, and this was the first time that Harry had been at his place. When Max's wife suggested that Max show him around, he was keen. Maybe it would give him a chance to clear things with Max. Or maybe he'd lose his friendship forever, for Harry was not going to lie to this friend. He was going to tell Max that he was a wizard, and hope that the friendship would continue. After all, Edward and Rachel accepted him as he was, even though it seemed he had brought them such trouble with their unusual daughter.

In the pride of showing off his horses and his farm, Max for a time forgot that there might be something unusual about his young neighbour. And Harry was so involved in his admiration of the glossy mares and skittish foals in their fields that he almost forgot what had brought him on this errand. It was only his beginning fatigue that reminded him that he'd better get on with it.

So when he saw a bench, he suggested that they sit. Max was instantly concerned, suddenly noticing that Harry was looking more pale than usual.

Harry was still having difficulty starting. But Max abruptly started for him. "Harry, what are you?"

Instead of answering directly, Harry said painfully, "Max, you've been a good friend to me. I don't want to lose you."

Max just looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

Harry finally continued. "Those men you met the other day, Dumbledore is the headmaster, and Snape's another teacher at the school where I work - a school of witchcraft and wizardry. Severus, Albus and I, we're all wizards. Ginny is a witch. But we're still just human!" He went on to state his opinion. "Magic is just another talent, like being able to sing, or to draw. We're still just people." In this, he would have had little agreement from the world of wizardry, and even less from the world of muggles. The ability to work magic is more than just another talent!

"You have the power to do magic," whispered Max.

Harry nodded.

"What can you do?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Max thought, and said, "No - we might leave that for now..." But then he asked, "Is it magic with the horses?"

Harry answered, "No, but I don't really know what it is. I just seem to understand them, and they understand me." And he told Max about Sheba, how she could buck and play, but the moment she felt Harry slipping from her back, she would move so that he was balanced again. "Once," he said, "She actually threw up her head, as I was about to pitch over her shoulder and I could then save myself."

Max still wasn't sure about this new aspect of the young family next door he had liked so much. "You must be so powerful! That's what I saw the other day - the three of you. You reeked of power!"

But Harry pointed out, "I still use a cane to get about. And it still seems an awful long way back to the house. It doesn't seem very powerful to me!"

Max wasn't sure that this was really a valid point, but he did notice that Harry was looking especially tired, and offered to fetch Toby to Harry, rather than Harry having to walk, and then he saddled himself a horse, and rode home with Harry, just in case Harry didn't make it.

Harry managed to preserve his friendship with his muggle neighbour, mostly thanks to the good sense of the muggle. Max didn't ask him again about his powers, deciding that it was really more comfortable not to know. But he continued to visit, and was not so disturbed the next time when he came across Harry's wizard friends wearing their wizard robes.

***chapter end***


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaime__r: This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 9:_

Harry knew he still became tired quickly, but when he looked in the mirror, he no longer noticed the hollow cheeks or how thin he still was. He had every hope of full recovery, and refused to ask Hermione's thoughts, or about the readings on the Nisco Monitor that she still used, in his opinion, far too frequently.

On Monday afternoon, he apparated to Hogwarts, appearing close to the main gates. He was early, luckily, as Sturgis and Caradoc were on the main gates, and, of course, he hadn't spoken to them for a long time. He didn't like it, though, when at first, he was not recognised, and then Caradoc commented on how thin he was. They thought he looked very sick and quite old, even though his hair was still jet black.

But after that initial hurdle, they sat and talked for a while. Things had been quiet at Hogwarts with Harry gone, and Caradoc was of the opinion that Dumbledore would soon start reducing the security. Harry said that he expected to be back next year, but Sturgis and Caradoc both privately doubted that.

He left the security guards, and was further detained by Hagrid, who had a class but apparently forgot all about them when he spotted Harry, and gave him such a bear hug that he staggered when he was let go. And Hagrid, too, doubted that he would be returning any time soon. Thirty or so students had seen him now, and word soon spread among the students and teachers that Professor Potter was at Hogwarts.

Professor Potter was in Dumbledore's office, with Julia expected to report at any moment. Dumbledore, of course, had seen him only recently, and was not as disturbed at his appearance as those others who knew him. Eight months before, he had radiated health and vigour as well as laughter and enthusiasm. Now he looked like an old man.

Julia knocked and entered the room, and faced her father for the first time for a long time. She stared at him, and her elaborately erected facade of cool control evaporated. Only her pride kept her standing there as tears ran down her face. She was not sobbing, she still looked amazingly beautiful, she kept her dignity, and she could still speak.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Harry," she said, as Harry regarded her, saying nothing.

Harry said just one word, "Why?"

Julia shook her head, "I don't know."

"Julia!" he said, in a commanding tone.

The girl answered as best she knew. "I'm so sorry," she said again. "Somehow I wanted to do it, and yet I could not believe that you'd really be hurt. I don't know why I did it. But I didn't want you hurt, and I especially didn't want you dead."

Harry went on to the next point. "Are you likely to do it again?"

"No, I'd never do it again," she said, and Harry believed her.

"What are you going to do to me?" Julia asked, and she still stood erect and proud, refusing to crumple as another might have done.

Both Dumbledore and Harry thought that she had such potential to be a force in the world. But Harry knew that she had a cruel streak, remembering how she had treated Adam and her half brothers when they had been younger. He was still afraid that she would be a force for evil, but still, she was his daughter, and he loved her. And somehow, he thought, it was he who was responsible for her being as she was. He was sure that none of Edward and Rachel's own children could ever have turned out as Julia had. He still did not know about the summer holidays, he would have to talk to Ginny, so he only said, "You continue at Hogwarts, and try and keep out of trouble. I'll let you know about the holidays," and he dismissed her.

When Julia left, Albus Dumbledore took Harry to the staffroom, where the other teachers could greet him. Stern Professor McGonnagal hugged him, almost crying over him, to his surprise, and others wrung his hand, welcoming him back and making a fuss. Harry was becoming embarrassed, and decided that it was time to go.

But he did have another call to make. Ginny had told him a little of the trouble he had made when he had first became ill, and he vaguely remembered a time of nightmares and fighting. Ginny had denied that he ever hurt anyone, but Harry wasn't sure that she could be believed. He didn't think that he really wanted to know the details, but he did want to see Madam Pomfrey, to apologise. And so he headed for the hospital wing, Dumbledore still walking with him.

He'd started to be tired by now, of course, but he hid his fatigue from Dumbledore, and from Madam Pomfrey when he entered the hospital.

Three hospital patients peeped as the stern nurse embraced him, and then soundly rebuked him for still being so thin. She wanted to know how he was now, and even demanded to make an examination.

Harry said, "Hermione keeps a very close watch on me, and Ginny makes sure that I do everything she says..."

After a fairly short visit, he took his leave, but Dumbledore stayed to talk with Madam Pomfrey as he left. "What do you think?" he asked, and the experienced nurse told him what she had seen immediately, that Harry had been very tired and was trying to hide it. That he was far too thin, probably still thoroughly weak, and that he had started to stagger as he left the hospital, although quickly recovering himself. She also pointed out that Harry should definitely not be apparating. Apparation can be dangerous. One should only ever apparate if one is entirely fit and well.

Back at home, Harry spoke to Ginny about Julia, pointing out that Edward and Rachel were afraid of her. But Ginny was hesitant. Attempted murder requires a lot of forgiving. But Harry asked, and Ginny agreed. Unless Rachel and Edward opposed the idea, which Harry thought unlikely, Julia would come to the Potters for all or most of the summer holidays.

Harry had decided that it was time to get on with living, and he told Hermione that he could perfectly easily resume doing his spell-breaking work now. To his astonishment, Hermione flatly refused, and was also rather horrified that he had apparated to Hogwarts. In fact, she gave him a thorough dressing down, and in front of Ginny, too, so Harry found his freedom abruptly curtailed, just when he had wanted to start getting about again.

The next morning, as Harry routinely raised his hands to run them over his face, he stopped. If he really looked so changed, maybe he could be anonymous again. And to the amusement of his wife and children, he did his best to grow a beard. His hair was already long, not having been cut since he became ill, except for a trim to get his fringe out of his eyes, which Ginny had done, not very well.

Harry thought, with long grey hair and a beard, he might pass for an old man when he took Adam to Diagon Alley for his school things.

It was arranged that Edward and Rachel would have Julia for the first two weeks of the school holidays, but then she would come to Harry. Harry wanted to see Rachel. It appeared that he was not very good at growing his own beard, which only looked thin, short and ugly, even after six weeks. Maybe Rachel could help him with his disguise.

So when the time came, the seldom used car was brought out, and Kevin took Harry to Rachel's place. Harry had tried to learn to drive at various times, but was hopeless. The moment he took his full attention off the road, he would veer dangerously to the left.

Rachel had not seen Harry since he had become sick, and the straggly looking old man on her doorstep made her hesitate a moment, before she looked into his eyes, gleaming with amusement at her confusion, and she rebuked him for frightening her, and gave him a hug because he looked rather pathetic.

He stayed a long time with them that Saturday. Julia was sent away for an hour. He said he had to talk with Rachel about disguise, but he talked about Julia, as well. Rachel had never been told that Julia was responsible for Harry's illness, and never suspected that she could have been capable of such an act, although she knew Julia as well as anyone else could possibly do.

Julia had been quiet, reserved and well behaved, these first two weeks of the holidays, and Rachel had been relieved but rather disbelieving. She thought Julia was up to something, and was happy for her to go to Harry's until school resumed.

As for disguise, she found him some grey hair dye that would wash out, but sighed over that pathetic beard. She knew someone, she said; he'd have to have a false beard if that's what he wanted.

Harry wasn't sure that it mattered all that much, but it had become a challenge. He wanted to appear in Diagon Alley, where every second person knew him by sight, and every person knew of him by reputation - and be anonymous. He described the beard that he had in mind, long and straggly, and grey. Rachel promised to see what she could do.

So Julia returned with Harry and Kevin to Harry's place. The previous owner had called it the corny _'Emohruo,'_ (Our home in reverse) and he had never changed it. He didn't think that anyone who knew him would expect him to live at a place called _Emohruo!_ It was universally known in the area as the Ramsbottom place.

Julia's behaviour was marked with an air of calm dignity, her face inscrutable. She made no trouble, and was very polite. The children regarded her with suspicion. Harry was tired again after the journey, and left her alone as she re-explored the estate.

She was interested in the horses, but it was when she came to that thick grove of trees that her heartbreak overflowed. She was remembering the scene she had secretly witnessed one day. Harry and Ginny had seemed so beautiful in their nakedness, and Harry's strength, his love and his laughter, as well as his virility had pierced her through. Now he was skin and bone, and tired out after a relatively short trip. And it was due to her own actions. She sobbed her heart out in that same grassy clearing amid the trees where she had watched Harry and Ginny make love. But when she returned, she was cool and polite, showing no sign of the emotional storm that had swept through her.

The following day, Julia joined Harry as he played with his horses. Seawind was looking better finally, although still rather poor. Harry took him to the mounting block, and scrambled onto his back for the first time. Seawind stood stock still, his head high, ears flickering back and forward. It had been so long since he had been ridden, but when Harry urged him forward, he started to walk with a long, free stride, and finally broke into a loping canter. Harry didn't ride him long. Seawind was also a convalescent. When Julia expressed interest in riding, he called up Toby, and remembered to strictly forbid her to go anywhere near Sheba.

Julia hopped easily astride Toby, and, alone among Harry's children, she seemed to have that same communication with the horses that Harry had. Her balance seemed instinctive, too. Harry called up Sheba for himself, and she lined herself up next to Harry's mounting block as she was accustomed to do. The pair rode gently around the perimeter of Harry's land, forgetting to be stiff in the enjoyment of the horses. They talked more easily than they had for years.

Adam was jealous. Going riding with his father was _his _thing. He did not want any interloper to take his place. When they returned, he was waiting for them, resentful, but refused to take Julia's place on Toby. He stalked off, his back stiff with his resentment.

Neither Adam, nor the girls, would have anything to do with Julia. They didn't know that she was responsible for Harry's illness, but they knew her of old. Julia tried to win them over, she was so good at that now. But not even Adam relented, and Julia was nearly always alone.

While Julia may have been trying hard to be well behaved, she did not believe she should be expected to do without sex. Luckily, her arrangements were discreet and harmless. She used one of the farm workers, young and single, so there were no complications. Harry saw them once, but did nothing. It could have been worse, and sex was a need that he understood.

Julia became a good rider very quickly, both Toby, and Seawind as he became fitter, going sweetly for her. But when, defying Harry's orders for once, she attempted to mount Sheba, she had to run, and was lucky not to be savaged. The other children could approach Sheba, and Jimmy no longer had the slightest trouble with her, but Sheba apparently recognised something within Julia that she didn't like...

The tall grey Seawind became her favourite mount, carrying her light weight easily. She was soon riding all over the area, no longer confining herself to within the boundaries of the estate. Julia was a radiantly beautiful young girl of fourteen, and such girls can be in danger from predatory men. But while Julia adored sex, it had to be on her terms, and when two young men accosted her one day, she froze them with a look. They retreated, confused, almost afraid. Harry Potter, at fourteen, would never have been able to do that!

Julia had a second string to her bow. If those men had persisted, Seawind would have kicked them to death at her command. She had her wand with her, too, of course, but Harry had warned her not to use magic, except as a very last resort. Underage magic can land a person in big trouble, as Harry had reason to know.

Adam's Hogwarts letter arrived, and Ginny took him to Diagon Alley to purchase his supplies. The auror's skill of apparating with a passenger was very useful. Separately she took Julia, too, as Julia had to be fitted out with new robes, as well as needing a few other supplies.

Hermione still refused to allow Harry to return to his spell-breaking work, and Ginny said that he was not allowed to apparate either, which he found very frustrating. He was increasingly restless now, and he could often be seen on Sheba, galloping flat out, streaking over fences, or putting on a bucking bronco show.

He might have been restless, feeling the need for activity, but he was still not strong. More than once the horse gently carried him back to his doorstep, and waited while he slipped off, and took himself shakily into the house. Once he even crumpled in a heap at the door for Ginny to find, as Sheba shrilly neighed for help.

Julia watched him, still with coolly inscrutable looks. Harry didn't know what she was thinking, but refused to arm himself against her. She was his daughter, and she had said that she would never attack him again.

It was not until she saw him as he emerged from the shower one day, wearing only a towel around his waist, that her veneer dropped. She stared at him. Without his clothes, every rib showed, and he looked utterly pathetic. Her face broke and she went to him. Harry opened his arms to his daughter, and hugged her as she cried bitterly.

It was time for a final decision to be made. Harry insisted he was fine, and could return to work. Dumbledore consulted Hermione, who suggested that he have Rutledge look at him. Hermione didn't want to be the one to refuse him.

The last time Dumbledore had brought Rutledge to Harry's place, Harry had been on the point of death. But Rutledge had given up being amazed at Harry; it seemed that Harry just didn't follow any norms that he knew.

They found him playing games with the baby, the baby giggling. and Harry laughing, too. The girls, now seven were involved in a complicated game of pretend in the corner, and serious Adam was watching his stepfather with an air of wonderment. Harry was now thirty-seven. He had not exactly given up on the beard, as the growth on his cheeks concealed the cheek scar nicely. But he had the false beard now, long, grey and straggly as requested. Rachel had even made a special trip to show him how to apply it.

He had practised his disguise, and if Ginny didn't relent soon, he was thinking of being disobedient and going visiting anyway. He knew he could apparate safely, and refused to believe that he was not fit enough to do some visiting, or spell-breaking, or whatever he wanted!

Dumbledore thought the half beard looked perfectly hideous, even after Harry told him what it was for, and offered to demonstrate. Harry said that, of course, he would remove it before returning to Hogwarts in a few weeks time. Dumbledore looked uncomfortable, and said that John Rutledge would have to have a look at him first.

Hermione arrived then, as had been arranged. She had seen Harry's beard a couple of weeks before, but didn't hesitate to tell him again how ugly it looked. His long hair didn't look too bad, rather dashing in fact.

Rutledge, Hermione and Harry retired to the bedroom and Rutledge commenced his thorough examination, Harry putting up with it very well. He was so tired of being an invalid and wanted to return to work! The experienced healer was dismayed to find how underweight Harry was still. From what Dumbledore had said about his activities, he had thought the man was a lot fitter than this. He had several gauges and monitors, which gave him a very good picture of Harry's health. He was not pleased.

Finally he was finished, and Harry dressed as he packed up his several instruments. They returned to the other room, where Dumbledore and Ginny waited. The baby was on a blanket on the floor, kicking plump legs. Dumbledore had been watching him. Little James had black hair, and a look of Harry about his face. The other children had been gently dismissed.

"Well?" queried Dumbledore.

John Rutledge had no choice, and he wasted no time. "I'm afraid returning to work is out of the question."

Harry was surprised and indignant. "But I'm fine, you know I am!" he protested.

"No, you're not," said Rutledge, flatly. "You are still grossly underweight, your energy levels are way down, the reading for general vigour is a third of what it should be. You're in no fit state to do a full day's work. I'd be surprised if you're not constantly tired."

Harry exclaimed hotly, "That dammed monitor, Hermione takes way too much notice of it, too! - It's unreliable, I know it is."

But Rutledge said, "Hermione told me you refuse to take notice of it. If you ask me, Mr. Potter, it's just that you find it too accurate. You can't fool the monitor, even if you do your best to fool your healers."

Harry was silent for a moment, and then sighed, suddenly perfectly calm, "Please, call me Harry. I'm sorry I was rude," and curious, "Can you really not fool the monitor?"

Rutledge answered, "It has a spell on it, so that uncooperative patients can't change the reading."

"Can I have a look at it?"

Rutledge was relieved that he was no longer arguing, and handed the Nisco monitor to Harry. Harry put it in the crook of his elbow as he'd seen Hermione do so often, looked at the monitor, and as Rutledge had said, it read only a little above 30. The energy levels were even lower, maybe he'd used up energy being angry.

Harry tossed in a little magic, and the dials rose, suddenly showing 100, and he displayed it to Rutledge, "That better?"

Rutledge laughed. "Well, no-one else can change the reading - but I still advise against your returning to work for a long time to come!"

Harry seemed to have accepted the finding, to Dumbledore's relief. John Rutledge, as he'd done before, congratulated him on still being alive. It was against all expectation.

Harry said ruefully, "It makes one feel a little foolish, though. You say good-bye, all prepared to die, and then wake up again, and have to start over!" And he insisted that they take a walk to see his horses, maybe as punishment. He knew perfectly well that they were not interested in horses.

They wound up leaning against the fence, very bored, but trying to be polite as Harry told them about the wonderful things his horses could do, the intelligence of Sheba, the sense of Toby, and the improvement in Seawind, whom Max had described as a 'pathetic old crock' when he first was interested in buying him.

Julia arrived home, cantering up on the tall grey horse, that was now nicely groomed, although still a touch thin.

John Rutledge stared in stunned admiration at the girl, balancing easily on the horse that appeared far too big. Julia noticed it, as she tended to notice the reactions of all the people around. But she had no use for John Rutledge, and ignored him, although politely greeting her headmaster.

***chapter end***


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer__: This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 10:_

Maybe as some compensation for his disappointment, Hermione and Ginny gave Harry permission to apparate again, and he could make some visits, although he still had strict orders that he was not be away for more than two hours at the most. He was not to overtire himself. And he was still forbidden to resume his spell-breaking work.

He was a long time preparing in the bathroom, as he rubbed the temporary grey dye into his black hair, concealed the forehead scar with make-up, and carefully applied the long and straggly beard. He used a pair of glasses with colourless frames, and donned an old brown robe. He picked up his cane, and was ready to face Diagon Alley. Ginny gave a peal of laughter at his appearance, and his own eyes were sparkling with merriment. He looked about eighty, and when, on her suggestion, he bent his back, and took shorter steps, he could have passed for ninety.

Harry Potter wandered the fascinating shops of Diagon Alley for a while, even braving Fred and George's Joke shop to see whether he would be recognised. George was absent at the time, but when Fred failed to recognise him, Harry felt totally safe. This was a better disguise than 'Bellamy' ever was! A bit of a shame that it was mostly due to his own ill health, of course, but there's always a silver lining...

He wandered into the bookshop, and noticed that his fame appeared to have died, there were few books about him, but he noticed a new one there, and purchased it. He liked to know what people were saying about him, just in case.

Alvin Blotts took no notice of him, as he paid for the book, but staggered him as he was about to leave by asking, "Would you like it delivered, Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned back to him, his mouth open in surprise. No-one else was in the shop, and he protested, "Alvin, I'm supposed to be in disguise."

Alvin was pleased at catching him out, and explained, "My daughter saw you a couple of months ago at Hogwarts. She said that you now had long hair and looked very thin, so I was a bit prepared. I wasn't sure, though, if that's a help!"

Harry laughed. It wasn't life or death. If a stunner caught him now, he might even survive, although he preferred not to find out. As suggested, he arranged to have the book delivered. He always preferred to have his hands free.

Harry was taking note of what Ginny had said, two hours at the most, and anyway, he was getting tired. But how could he go to Diagon Alley and not visit Florean Fortescues Ice-Cream Parlour? He had never outgrown his liking for ice-cream. He ordered his chocolate nut double ice-cream, and sat in the sunshine, back to the wall, enjoying it. No aurors had appeared, which was a good indication that the Ministry had not been informed that he was out.

Draco Malfoy strolled by, noticed him there, and without hesitation, joined him at the table, and said, but quietly, "Hello, Harry."

Harry laughed. "I thought I had such a good disguise, but you're the second one. How did you guess?"

Malfoy pointed out that only Harry Potter would disguise himself as an old man, and then sit out in public and have an ice-cream just like a kid!

There was actually a little more to it than that. When they were in the same year at school, Malfoy used to spend a lot of time aware of, and hating Potter. And no surface disguise would stop him knowing instantly who he was now.

Malfoy was tempted to rib Harry about his not fulfilling expectations by dying, but he was suddenly struck by pity. Harry was his own age, and yet looked so old, and it was not just the grey hair. So he merely gossiped for a bit about mutual acquaintances, and congratulated him on his invitation to join the Wizemgamot, which was not public knowledge, but Draco always seemed to know these things.

Harry thought he'd best be leaving. He didn't want Ginny to forbid him to go out again, so he took his leave, slipped out of sight, and silently disapparated, reappearing in the house, not too tired, and within his time limit. He was feeling happier, too. It may have been his own home, but he had begun to feel confined within its borders lately.

He visited his secretary when he got home, although Ginny usually managed anything to do with money or correspondence. He'd started to wonder about money. He hadn't worked now for nearly a year, and the expenses of his home and staff were heavy. His question to Margaret was still casual, "Have I still got enough money?"

Margaret assured him that he had, adding the information that she had organised some further sales of various of his inventions, although he should treat some more of his backscratchers soon, stocks had run short world wide, and she'd been getting complaints from the distributors. It seemed that thousands were stocked up in the factory waiting for him.

It was not a big problem for the factory. Harry's backscratcher was only one of dozens of items they manufactured. While he was sure that he was healthy enough to do the job quite easily, he wanted to keep his new disguise for a while. He enjoyed the novelty of being out in public, and yet anonymous. He asked Margaret to let the factory know that he would be a few weeks yet, and thanked her for her services to him. She really was a help. Between Margaret Brown, and Bill Forrester, the farm manager, Harry seldom had to intervene in the affairs of his estate.

Now that he was allowed out, Harry was feeling a lot more contented. While he still played with his horses the desperate restlessness was gone. Hermione continued to check him every couple of weeks, but he never asked about her readings, and she didn't offer him the information. His progress was still very slow, and he remained extremely thin, but he thought he was getting stronger, and no-one contradicted him.

Adam left for Hogwarts for the first time at the beginning of September, and Julia commenced her fourth year. Adam was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and Harry thought that the Sorting Hat really did know its business.

He made a few more visits in disguise, including a trip to see a Quidditch game. But that was a mistake. He became far too wrapped up in the game, entirely forgot to be cautious, and was finally nudged by a young man behind him, who said, "Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but you're not acting much like an old man!"

Harry recognised a former student, laughed and said, "You're quite right. I think I'd best go home and be good." But he had been out for twice the time Ginny allowed him, arrived home thoroughly worn out, and was in trouble with Ginny.

The following day, he was feeling lethargic, and suddenly became tired of the facial hair that may have disguised the cheek scar, but was really very ugly. He ran his hands over his face, his attempted beard vanished, and his whole family was relieved.

It took a couple of days to recover from his trip to watch Quidditch. Harry may have been irked sometimes by the restrictions placed on him by Ginny and Hermione, but he knew within himself that they were often better judges of his capabilities than he was himself.

Now that he had given up his disguise, he went and did the magic that meant a few thousand more of his backscratchers went on the market, and promised to make regular trips from then on. No-one rebuked him, his appearance was too obvious an indicator of a severe illness.

He raised the subject of his spell-breaking work with Hermione again, pointing out that it was very seldom the slightest bit difficult. The problem here was keeping it limited to just a few patients each time, but Hermione was adamant that he did not do too much. She knew that while most of his patients were effortless for him, on occasion he struck one that he had to work at. There had even been a very few that had defeated him entirely, although Harry kept a record of those - he always hoped to find a way.

Years ago, he had combed the libraries of Hogwarts and of the Ministry, trying to find any works on breaking these types of spells. But either nobody had ever done it, or nobody had ever written about it. He found no help.

It was over a year since Harry had done any of this spell-breaking work, and Hermione's secretary had a long list of clients needing the service. But Hermione said that she could only book in five patients that Wednesday, and Harry was not to be allowed to do a session more than once a week unless he became a great deal stronger.

Harry was happy to turn up at Hermione's that Wednesday. They had stuck to the same time as he had always used, and he enjoyed the feeling that he was getting back to normal. He greeted Bedwin a bit ruefully, though, saying that he had hoped that the Ministry might have decided to stop spying on him after all this time.

Bedwin, looking slightly shamefaced, said "Afraid not, Harry, and anyway, I'm as much a bodyguard as anything else."

Harry shrugged, and turned back to Hermione, who gave him the usual brief history of her first patient, before calling him in. Harry worked his magic, waving his wand, and repeating the words, which he mostly did because the patients seemed to appreciate _some _ceremony when he broke the spells that had plagued them.

The same routine followed for the next four, the only difficulty, as always, was shaking off the grateful patients afterward. The last one was an middle-aged lady who had been thoroughly cursed by her sister-in-law, and by the time she had hugged him several times, raved about his powers, and moaned about his illness and haggard looks, Harry was very tempted to re-curse the woman!

When he finally got rid of her, he turned to Bedwin, and suggested that from now on, he make himself of some use, and defend him against such a person. Bedwin was amused, but next time when Harry was afflicted by too much gratitude, he did in fact, intervene, and put a stop to it. Harry finally got some use out of the observers whom he regarded as such an imposition.

In the past, Harry had rarely been seen without one of his children with him. But although he was perfectly confident that he could apparate himself as he chose, the moment he thought of taking a child as a passenger, he suddenly perceived all the dangers of apparating when not fully fit. He had used to enjoy having a child with him, and it gave each of his children some special time with him, too, which is very important to a child. But now that was not possible, and he was generally alone unless he could persuade Ginny to come, which usually meant that the baby came too.

Ginny may have been happy to visit her parents with Harry, also Fred and George, and Bill and his wife, she refused to consider going along to see Harry's uncle and aunt, or his cousin Dudley. Harry really only went to see his uncle and aunt because they were getting old. They never appreciated these visits, they had never liked Harry, and this time Harry decided that he was being a fool. His uncle and aunt were not worth wasting any more time on. But Dudley was his cousin, and he regarded Dudley's children as nephews and nieces, especially the little redhead, Gemme.

Harry's appearance had been a shock to Dudley. His strange cousin was the same age as himself, and yet here he was, except for his overly long black hair, looking quite old. It made Dudley, himself, think that he, too, must be getting old.

Dudley and Harry had never had much in common, often making up for lack of conversation by a session in Dudley's gym. Dudley didn't even suggest it this time. Instead they talked about Dudley's children, and while Dudley raved about the various qualities of Mark and Simon, he was suspiciously quiet about Gemme, now seven.

Harry finally asked about her directly. Dudley, looking a little sad and distinctly worried, admitted that strange things happened about Gemme, and he related a couple of inexplicable incidents.

Harry said softly, "Do you want to know whether she's a witch?" Dudley admitted that maybe it would be as well to know.

Dudley could not find Gemme around the house, and finally asked Celia, who was working in her studio, where she was. But Celia only said that she was probably with her friends. But as she spoke, a mob of shrieking girls burst through the doors and ran out the other side into the backyard, where Harry and Dudley had been sitting. Bemused, the men followed them out.

Five girls were racing round and round the back yard, in some sort of chasing game. Gemme was apparently a leader, because when she spotted Harry, and stopped her run, the others did, too. Gemme stared at Harry, and finally asked, showing a scant regard for courtesy, "Who are you?"

Harry had to answer that he was her Uncle Harry. Poor Harry was getting a bit tired of comments on his changed appearance, and the novelty of being unrecognised had begun to pall weeks before.

Gemme continued to regard him solemnly, saying suddenly, "Your hair is awfully long."

Harry agreed, saying that he'd have it cut as soon as he got around to it. The other girls were staring at him in fascination also, and he finally said, "You know, I've got something I want to try with some girls like you."

He picked up the little kitbag he usually carried with him, especially when he was in muggle areas, and rummaged inside it, conjuring five little dolls. He didn't want any scenes with any of these children wanting to keep his wand.

"I have a little present for anyone who can make this light work. But the light is mine, of course, and no-one can have it. All you have to do is to say the word, _'Lumos,'_ and he demonstrated, as he had done with Rachel's children some years before.

He handed it to a little girl at random. The round faced child said the word, and to Harry's astonishment, the wand immediately lit up.

"Wow, that's one," he said, and the wand was handed on. The next three girls failed, but Gemme waited, allowing her friends to have their turn. Gemme somehow looked as if she knew what was coming. She took her turn last, concentrated, and took two goes before the wand flickered. She tried again and again before she managed to keep a good steady light.

"Well done," said Harry again, making little of it, and delving in his bag for the little dolls to hand to the girls.

Gemme gave back his wand with discernible reluctance, staring at him as if he had secrets of vast import to divulge, and, for her, he had. The girls were still gathered around him. They seemed to feel he was a person of vast interest, but Harry was particularly interested in the little witch with the round face. So he asked their names. The little girl was called Catherine Longbottom, and he said, "I might know your father. Is he called Neville?"

She agreed that he was called Neville.

"I went to school with your father. Do you live nearby? I'd like to see him again."

So Harry took his leave from Dudley, leaving any further discussion about Gemme for a later date. Dudley, of course, knew what his trick with the wand meant.

Neville and his wife Bess, to Harry's relief, knew him immediately, and were very happy to see him again. This pair had the tact not to comment on his changed appearance, for which he was grateful. He was beginning to be self-conscious now that he was going about again, the comments on his thinness were becoming so predictable, and he hated the pity that he saw. It hadn't mattered when only his family and close friends had seen him, they were accustomed to it, and never mentioned it these days.

Harry didn't stay long with Neville; he was getting to the end of the two hour limit Ginny still insisted on, so took his leave, disapparating the moment he was out of sight.

He went back for a longer visit to see Neville a week or so later, renewing his acquaintance with their daughter Catherine, and getting to know Neville's wife, Bess, a little better. Bess seemed even more vague and forgetful than Neville, going off to make coffee, and being discovered twenty minutes later working in the garden.

Harry naughtily wondered if her forgetfulness was part of the reason for their large family, as Catherine already had six brothers and sisters, and Bess appeared to be pregnant again. Maybe she routinely forgot to work the anti-conception spell. Or maybe they just liked having a large family. Neville, like himself, had lost his parents to Voldemort, and appeared to have few other relatives. Even the grandmother who had raised him was now dead. And Neville appeared very proud of every one of his large family. Bess and Neville obviously had a good understanding, content together. There appeared to be a nanny, luckily, who looked after the younger children, as Bess didn't seem capable of keeping her mind long enough on reality to do much of a job.

Harry reminded Neville about his cousin Dudley, and told him that he lived nearby, and that their daughter was a witch. Neville knew of Dudley - at school Harry used to talk about him sometimes. But for some reason, he never connected the family of Catherine's friend Gemme, who was often around the house, with that Dudley that Harry used to talk about.

Harry had been thinking that Neville would be a help when it came time for Gemme to know about the wizarding world, but it seemed that this was only a temporary home for Neville's family. Their own home had burned down when Neville forgot she was cooking, according to Bess, and when Bess forgot that she was cooking, according to Neville.

Harry casually mentioned that Catherine seemed very talented, and Bess forgot her abstraction for a moment, to say proudly that all her children were very talented. And the two oldest ones were both in Gryffindor.

Neville forgot his tact then, and asked Harry when he would be teaching again, but was sorry when a shadow crossed his face, and he said that he didn't know.

Reminded of his restrictions, Harry rose to leave.

"I have my own nursery, now," said Neville proudly, "Would you like to see?"

Harry agreed that he would be very interested, but could not do it today. The young nanny was nearby, carrying a baby. Harry recognised a student of just a couple of years before, but she took no notice of him.

After he left, Neville asked Bess if she thought that he had really wanted to see the nursery, that maybe he was just making excuses. The nanny put in then, "That old man you're talking about? He was looking very tired, didn't you see? He's probably gone home to bed!"

Harry hadn't forgotten Gemme. He spoke to Ginny about her, another spirited little redhead, just the same age as their own girls. They'd be going to Hogwarts together. And with his usual concern for muggle-borns, he spoke of giving little Gemme a chance to get to know their girls, and maybe in couple of years, see a little of the wizarding world before it was time for her to join it.

Ginny was immediately curious, and readily agreed to come herself, and to bring one of the twins when next Harry visited Dudley's family.

Out of habit, and for security reasons, Harry hardly ever gave people any warning that he was about to visit. Luckily he was usually such good value, and popular enough that he was almost always welcome, with the exception only of his uncle and aunt. But this time he wanted to make sure that Gemme would be available, so used the dusty telephone to ring ahead the following weekend.

Dudley had never told Celia that Harry was a wizard, but now, of course, with evidence that their daughter was a witch, things had changed. Harry was rather disconcerted when Celia appeared suddenly so nervous of him, she'd known him a long time, and she looked at Ginny with a great deal of suspicion, too. Ginny had brought Victoria with her, after consulting the children's roster to see whose turn it was for the treat.

Victoria and Gemme soon broke the ice. At first they just stared at each other, then went outside. But just five minutes later, screams broke out, Gemme and Vicky were rolling over and over in the mud fighting as hard as they could. The various parents pulled them apart, and the mud stained girls were asked to account for themselves.

"She called me a witch!"

"She said Daddy was an old man!"

"She said my Dad was too fat!"

"She said magic is only stupid tricks!"

Ginny and Celia took their daughters and cleaned them both up. The two redheads glared at each other, as their clothes were brushed reasonably clean.

Ginny whispered to Celia, "Do you mind if I just use a little magic to get the mud out - I didn't bring a change of clothes for her."

Celia was suddenly just another over-worked mother, and said, "Please."

So Ginny produced her wand, muttered her spell, and Victoria's dress was clean and dry, a tear magically mended.

Celia shrugged, "Well, why not? How about you do Gemme as well?"

So Gemme, now silenced, was clean and dry again, and two well behaved little girls presented themselves for inspection to their respective fathers.

Gemme was staring at Victoria, and now asked, "Do you want to see my Barbie Dolls?" The mothers looked at each other, and Celia shrugged and nodded, and the girls were not seen again for some time.

Harry said, "Well, I was not going to suggest that you tell her anything for a year or two yet, but it seems Vicky may have jumped the gun!"

He was right. Upstairs, Victoria was telling Gemme all about a different world than she knew. Gemme knew not to talk about magic to muggles, but she had heard her parents say that Gemme was a witch, and had not realised that the restriction should have applied here too.

As the secret was out, Harry suggested that Gemme start visiting them now and then, and get to know a little of his world before the Hogwarts letter arrived. Celia and Dudley agreed. Dudley knew that there was no way that magic could be squashed out of Gemme, as he'd witnessed his parents ill treating Harry when Harry had been small. And that had certainly not worked. And anyway, this was Gemme, his daughter, whom he loved. Gemme would be helped, not hindered, as she grew to be a witch.

***chapter end***


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer__: This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 11:_

Harry had in his mind the invitation to join the Wizemgamot, the Wizard High Court. It meant a lot to him. It was several years ago now, but he had a history of conflict with the governing Ministry of Magic, and had been accused of being a powerful dark wizard. He wanted acceptance as a responsible part of wizardry, and being a member of the Wizemgamot was a sign of ultimate respectability.

He never gave a thought to the wizard he had executed not so long before, and it never occurred to him that that crime might indicate that, at root, he was maybe not respectable at all. Harry Potter wanted to be on the side of respectable citizenship.

Hermione put her foot down again. Full scale trials might not come up often, but sometimes they lasted days, and Hermione was sure that hours of sitting on hard benches, as well as the emotional strain of a trial would not do for Harry in his current state of health. And that last factor was not trivial. Harry might have been good at putting on an emotionless facade, but Hermione, who had known him for so long, thought that he felt things more than most people did. That while he had a great power of joy, he also had a great power of suffering. She had even wondered if somehow that quality was linked to his magic - he had more magic than everybody else, too.

_**x**_

It was over a year now since Harry had been struck down, and heading into Christmas again. He was continuing doing short weekly sessions of spell-breaking for Hermione, and had had no difficulties with any of these patients. Hermione usually came to his house for his fortnightly examination, but Hermione and Ron had finally decided to have a baby, and Hermione was pregnant, felt ill, and didn't want to apparate. So after the quick session, still limited to just five patients, Hermione suggested that they do his checkup there.

Bedwin, conscious that the Ministry would be very interested in the results, was ordered out, but his loyalty was to the Ministry, not to Harry, and he used a device to listen in.

Hermione had Harry strip to the waist as usual, but this time he walked over to her mirror, studying himself. And when she used the monitor, he asked to see the readings. He looked a long time, far longer than it needed to comprehend the two figures there. In spite of all the months that had gone by, there was scarcely a rise in the figures since he had looked last, when Rutledge had examined him. But finally he just grunted and handed the monitor back to Hermione.

Hermione said, "You've just got to be patient, Harry - after all, you nearly died."

Harry was looking at a chart on the wall. "I thought once the heart started doing the right thing, that I'd get better fairly quickly."

"You've just got to be patient," Hermione said again.

"Maybe," said Harry, "And maybe this is as good as it's going to get."

That afternoon, he took Seawind for a gallop, off his property, and on to some wild common land that stretched for many miles. Seawind stretched his legs and galloped a long way, responding to Harry's need. They stopped only when they came to a piece of coast, a wild and deserted cliff top.

Harry slipped off the panting horse, which dropped its head in weariness. He went and sat against a rock, staring out to sea for an hour, for once neglectful of his horse, who was thirsty and tired.

When finally, he slowly rose, and went to his horse, he knew that he had been silly and selfish. Seawind was tired and thirsty, and he was remorseful. But he had also overtired himself, and it was a long way home. And although Seawind went down on his knees for him to mount, he still had some difficulty with the tall horse.

They walked slowly to a stream, where Seawind could drink. Harry might have had a drink himself, but thought he might not be able to mount again. Seawind started walking slowly home, but they had come miles, and Harry was exhausted.

Back at home, Ginny was becoming very worried. Harry had been gone for several hours, and she had no idea where he was. The girls were long since back from school, so she asked them to mind James, and went down to the horse paddock, where she found Jimmy, also looking anxious. Sheba was pacing the fence, occasionally throwing up her head and calling loudly. Jimmy was watching her.

"Either she's in season and looking for a stallion," he said to Ginny, "or she knows where Harry is."

At that moment, Sheba abruptly took a few steps back, jumped the fence, and came straight to Jimmy, nudging him with her head so that he nearly fell. Jimmy, crossing his fingers, as no-one rode Sheba but Harry, saddled her and cautiously mounted. But Sheba was perfectly quiet, if rather impatient.

"I'll come, too," said Ginny suddenly, and Jimmy left Sheba with her for a moment, and caught and saddled Toby.

Sheba set off, Ginny on Toby following. Sheba was not an easy ride for Jimmy, she was impatient, nervy, and every now and then would abruptly stop and call loudly.

Some miles away, Seawind stood over Harry, collapsed on the grass, and called, too. After a while, Jimmy and Ginny could hear the calls of Seawind, and knew that they were getting near. Harry had revived by now, and managed to pull himself back onto the back of his horse, but drooped wearily as Seawind gently started walking again. He didn't even seem to notice as Ginny on Toby and Jimmy on Sheba arrived, the horses walking side by side, Sheba so close that Jimmy could stretch out an arm and steady Harry when he started to slip.

It was dark before they reached home, and the horses walked quietly and smoothly to the front door, where Harry was pulled off, tried to stand, but fell, and was carried by Jimmy into the house.

Harry resigned himself a bit better after that, no longer exceeded his strength, and took notice of what he was told by Ginny and by Hermione. He left his hair long, he thought it distracted attention from the hollow cheeks and drawn face. He tried to ignore the pity he provoked when he went out in public, and tried not be annoyed whenever there was a newspaper item that stated he was now 'broken in health,' even though he had finally acknowledged that they might be right. He'd been trying to do without his cane for months, but now he conceded that he needed it, and was always seen with it in his hand, sometimes scarcely needing it, sometimes depending on it.

For a time, he resumed working at some inventions. One thing that he made, to be sold in Fred and George's Joke shop, was a complicated silver implement that whirred and hummed, had various components that spun, or trembled on a dial, but the only function it actually had was to impress other people when left on an office desk. It looked terribly complicated, terribly expensive and terribly impressive, and was quite useless. It reminded Harry of certain people he knew.

But he soon became bored, and started looking for other amusements.

He could read now, but sustained reading still tired him, and once he suddenly found that his eyes refused to focus again, which disturbed him.

_**x**_

Julia went to her mother and father's for Christmas that year, as Rachel had a bit more confidence in handling her now that she had settled down. Julia was well behaved, the single man she found for her use over the holidays was left with no wounds, and Rachel and Edward started to remember again how they had adored their little girl before she had become such a problem.

Julia was doing very well at school. Her talent was exceptional, and her marks were always very high. Dumbledore and Snape continued to keep a close watch on her.

She had become more and more beautiful as she grew older. Wherever she appeared, she provoked comment, and almost without trying, she became expert at manipulating people, although using more subtle methods than she had used a couple of years before. She had now definitely decided that she was going to be Minister for Magic, and it looked certain that she would succeed.

_**x**_

Harry's spell-breaking work continued, but the Ministry was getting complaints again. There was a big backlog, and Hermione no longer accepted clients from overseas. Hermione finally allowed Harry to do a second session on Mondays, although it was still limited to just five patients.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones came to see him at Hermione's office one day, as he concluded his session. They knew that Harry looked different these days, but were still appalled when he appeared, unfortunately not hiding it as much as they thought.

Harry never liked this reaction, but was by now accustomed to it. He looked worse than usual that day, as he had struck a difficult case, and had had to put some effort into his usually effortless cures. Hermione had seen, and insisted on using her monitor afterward, which he thought a real nuisance, as she discovered the energy levels very low, and then forbade him to apparate.

Madam Bones, on the recommendation of Kingsley, wanted Harry to do an interview, and especially to have his photograph in the paper. They were tired of the Ministry being blamed for Harry not being able to do enough cures.

Harry refused. He hated interviews, and he did not want his picture in the paper. Even without the grey dye in his hair, or a beard, he often went unrecognised in the streets, and that was useful to him. No-one had aimed a spell at him for a long time now.

Amelia saw how tired he was, and they didn't stay long. Hermione suggested that he rest on a couch in a small spare room for a time, and he was glad to do so. He'd given up expecting to get better, and thought he should just try and make the most of what he had. But he didn't seem to be doing as well at this as he had in younger days. He was so often tired, and was beginning to lose his enthusiasm for life.

It was hours before Hermione gave in to his insistence, and allowed him to apparate, but something went wrong, and Harry found himself appearing in the middle of a rough sea, swallowing mouthfuls of water before he recovered himself sufficiently to try again.

He was very grateful that no-one saw him as he finally arrived home, staggering and dripping salt water. He was very glad for his magic, then, quickly cleaning up the evidence, as he glanced at the door apprehensively. He didn't ever want Ginny to know about this piece of incompetence! He was a lot more careful about apparating after that. Even the great Harry Potter could get it wrong!

He was annoyed with himself for not being more content, he thought he had been given so much in his life, especially his loving wife and family. But this time reason wasn't working, and he was restlessly unhappy. He was tired of his inventions, he loved his horses, but couldn't play with them all day, Adam was away at Hogwarts, and the girls spent most of their days at school. The baby was fun, and Ginny often left him with the child while she went about her business.

What he really wanted was to feel healthy and strong again, but it seemed that was never going to happen. He knew that Hermione's monitor still showed the same values they had shown for several months, he knew he was still little more than a skeleton, and had no hope that Dumbledore would allow him to resume teaching.

When June came, Harry found himself working with Hermione's locum, as it was the last weeks of her pregnancy. Luckily no problems arose, as the substitute did not have the same influence with him that Harry allowed Hermione.

Hermione had her baby boy, without problems, and called him Ben. It was going to be a redhead, like Ron. Ron and Hermione were thrilled, and Harry was very pleased for them. Babies always fascinated him, and he pleased Hermione with his obvious admiration, nursing his nephew, playing with the tiny hands, and studying the face with its tight shut eyes.

For the next fortnight, Harry did his twice weekly sessions with Hermione's locum, until one day he collapsed, having attempted to do two difficult patients in one session. The patients were cured, but Ron had to take Harry home. Bedwin reported the collapse to his supervisor - the Ministry always wanted to know what Harry was up to.

After that, Hermione attended again, but only for Harry's session, she wanted some time at home with her baby before returning to fulltime work.

School holidays arrived, and again Julia divided her time between her parent's house, and Harry's house. Julia had to look around a bit for a sex partner this time, as the young man she had used the previous year, had long since become apprehensive about his boss's reaction if he ever found out, and had left. But Julia took over Seawind again, and every day, the horse could be seen waiting for a time at the house of a neighbouring divorcee.

Ginny, of course, knew that Harry was unhappy, though he tried to conceal it from her. She spoke privately to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore consulted with Hermione, and lastly, Dumbledore came to visit Harry. They talked generally a while. Harry asked Dumbledore just what he had done when he had gone down to the Lollylegs Hex. Dumbledore explained. Harry listened carefully, but admitted, "I've still not been game to try exposing myself to a spell. I might have grown a more successful beard if I'd been willing to use a bit of magic on myself!"

Dumbledore said casually, "Well, if you're coming back to Hogwarts, it's a very good thing if you're no longer sensitive to spells."

Harry was looking at him, caution in his eyes.

Dumbledore took pity on him. "Hermione says that you could probably do two mornings a week if you want."

An enormous smile spread across Harry's face. "Oh yes, I do want." he said softly. "Very much."

Dumbledore was satisfied. "Your office and bedroom has never been used, so if you get too tired to return home after work, you can just stay the night."

"No, no, I'll be fine," said Harry with his usual optimism.

But Dumbledore wasn't finished, "And any time I say so, you have to agree to see Poppy - I'm not going to let you apparate home if I think you're too tired. And I'm sorry, Harry, but that's a condition of coming back. You have to agree to be looked after."

"Albus!" said Harry indignantly, "I nearly always do what they tell me. I've been exceptionally well behaved!"

Dumbledore said gently but firmly, "I want your promise, Harry," and Harry said, rather grumpily, "I promise," but then the wide smile spread across his face again, and he said, "It'll be so good to come back, Albus. I'm so tired of sitting around here all day!"

Ginny had told Dumbledore about his restless activity, and he wondered just how much sitting around Harry did.

But Harry was full of cheer and laughter now, and couldn't wait to go back to the school he loved, and the profession that he so much enjoyed.

His health had still not really improved, and he would not apparate with a passenger, so he was alone a few days later when he went to Diagon Alley to buy himself some new books and supplies for school. He really bought much more than he needed, considering he was only doing two half days a week.

Afterward, he regarded the pile of purchases with some bemusement, and suddenly wondered why he couldn't simply send them home by magic. For some reason, that never seemed to be done, wizards normally having as much trouble as anyone else getting heavy items from place to place. He drew his wand, waved it at the pile of goods, and crossed his fingers that he would find them safely at home when he returned.

He was having his customary ice-cream when Bedwin appeared, which indicated that the Ministry had been informed that he was out and about. Harry waved to him, greeting him, and Bedwin came over to him, although trying to remember he was on duty, not on a social visit.

"How's things?" said Bedwin, trying to scan the surrounding area at the same time. Harry was very practised at being careful while having a good time, and put up a much better pretence of being relaxed.

Harry said happily, "I'm going to be teaching again - only part-time for a start, but I reckon I'll be fit enough to go full-time soon." Harry had experienced a surge of optimism at his reinstatement as a teacher, and was again ignoring the unchanged readings on Hermione's monitor.

"What?" said Bedwin, very surprised. It was only a few weeks since Harry had collapsed after working his cures, and he had no information that he was in any better health now.

"I start at the beginning of term, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so the spell-breaking can continue Mondays and Wednesdays."

Another friend of Harry's joined them then, and while Dean purchased ice-creams for his two girls, Bedwin retreated to a position where he could keep a lookout for danger.

Harry was joking with Dean about something, appearing perfectly relaxed, when he started to his feet, wand in hand.

Bedwin, seeing him, was also ready for action, and an instant alert appeared in the auror headquarters, with the result that Mark and Charles Mason appeared. Mason was one of the aurors that Harry had named as some-one whom he did not want around him, but there was no-one else available at the time, and McVeigh crossed his fingers that Harry would not complain to Madam Bones.

Nothing happened, Harry re-pocketed his wand, and turned to Dean to take his leave. Still nothing happened, as Harry slipped around the corner and disapparated. He had not stayed alive this long, by waiting to see whether there really was any danger or not.

A few days later, he did his usual spell-breaking stint, and then left Hermione's office to go to Fred and George's next door, where he had some business. Bedwin was with him, and after the scare a few days ago, Mark was also just outside the door. The aurors had considerable respect for Harry Potter's instincts, and if he thought there'd been a threat, they suspected it was probably true. The Ministry these days was very interested in keeping him alive. The letters of complaint when he was too ill to do his spell-breaking work had made certain people come to the conclusion that he was a very valuable property.

Bedwin called to the valuable property, "Wait for me, Harry, I'm supposed to be protecting you!"

Harry looked back at him, distracted just long enough that he was too slow to dodge the stunner that suddenly whizzed through the air. Mark was there, though, and stunned the attacker before he had a chance to disapparate. For almost the first time, an auror had caught one of the wizards who made Harry's life such a lottery.

Bedwin knelt beside the limp form on the ground. Mark joined him, and asked if he was all right.

"I don't know," said Bedwin, "But at least he's not dead."

Someone had called Hermione. She dropped to her knees, relieved to see that he did not appear to be badly hurt. Two more aurors had appeared by then, and she asked if she could have help carrying him back into her office.

John Dawlish aimed his wand at Harry, "Why don't we just revive him?" he asked, but Hermione quickly moved between Dawlish and Harry.

"No," she said, "And if you use that wand on Harry to do anything, I'll report you."

Dawlish curled his lip, but moved off, and took over the transport of the unconscious attacker instead, and Mark, who was a large man, lifted Harry and deposited him on the couch in Hermione's office.

Just a couple of years ago, Harry would undoubtedly have died if hit by a full scale stunner. After Dumbledore's intervention, he was no longer sensitive to spells. On the other hand, he was in very poor health, and Hermione kept a close watch on him for the next couple of hours. He seemed all right, pulse a bit weak, maybe, but the LV Nisco reading was normal for Harry, though the energy reading was very low. A healthy man is normally knocked out for maybe half an hour, seldom more, from a normal stunner. It took Harry three hours to revive. But suddenly he was blinking at the ceiling, and wondering what had happened.

He had been moved to a side room, and Hermione was in a chair next to him, reading a book. The baby in a bassinette was at her feet.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"A stunner," Hermione answered, putting down her book. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty normal," said Harry starting to get up, but turning pale and lying back down. "Maybe not quite." But he was smiling. "I survived a stunner! Good for Dumbledore!"

"I'll tell you something else that'll make you happy," said Hermione. "Mark got him. He'll be in Azkaban, by now, I expect."

"I wonder," said Harry. "It was only a stunner. How would they prove that he was trying to kill?" For Harry did not even consider that it may not have been an attempt to kill. He had been subject to attempts to kill him for more than twenty years now.

He was still lying down, and Hermione got out her monitor. Harry didn't even protest for a change. He was still smiling, "Just think, they finally got me, and they made the mistake of using a stunner instead of a Death Curse."

The question then arose as to how to get Harry home. Hermione said at once that he was not to apparate, and Harry didn't argue. He had never told anyone about apparating once, and winding up half drowned at sea. In fact, he was being very docile, still lying down, and just waiting for Hermione to decide what to do with him. He didn't tell Hermione that his head was still spinning and that he felt quite ill, but Hermione found his docility unusual, and knew.

In the end, Harry suggested that maybe Fred and George could accommodate him, they were only next door. Fred and George had never married, and lived in a flat above their shop. Bedwin and Mark were both still close, on guard in the outer office, and wanted to know how Harry was. Hermione told them that he had just woken, but seemed all right, and then she went and asked Fred and George Weasley whether Harry could stay the night. They readily agreed, and Mark helped Harry next door.

Harry was still very shaky, and Hermione checked him out again, when he was installed on a couch next door. She left then, but promised to check in again in a couple of hours.

Bedwin reported back to work then, and two aurors were assigned to be on guard outside the Joke Shop until Harry had returned to the safety of his hidden home, its whereabouts not even known to the Ministry, much to the resentment of some.

Harry was left alone for a couple of hours, and he closed his eyes and just waited until he felt better.

The evening was entertaining. He conjured himself one of his comfortable high backed armchairs, and enjoyed the hilarious company of the twins. He was still feeling quite weak, but was in good spirits, and there was a lot of laughter. Fred had spoken to the aurors, and thought it amusing that their friend was such a valuable commodity that he needed such heavy protection. But Harry said that it was just as much spying on him as anything else. He always had difficulty thinking that aurors might be on his side...

Hermione checked him again in the afternoon, also in the evening, finally seeming more satisfied with him. But she gave him instructions that he was to wait until she saw him again, before he left in the morning. Ginny knew where he was, and was not worrying.

That same afternoon, Albus Dumbledore was in Amelia Bones' office. Madam Bones was the Minister for Magic, and had called in Dumbledore because Bedwin had reported that he was going to allow Harry Potter to return to work. According to the information that the Ministry had, Harry was still very sick, and showing no improvement, although they had no details.

Now that the Ministry so very much wanted to keep Harry Potter alive, Madam Bones was on the point of forbidding Dumbledore from employing him. She seemed to think that Harry should spend all his time resting, except for those vital times when he did his spell-breaking work. She also had ideas about doing work for other countries. It would mean both profits and prestige for the Ministry if Harry were only well enough to travel, and do his cures in other countries.

But Amelia Bones was mostly a fairly reasonable woman, and preferred to come to an agreement with Dumbledore rather than using her power when it was not necessary. So she suggested that Harry see a Ministry mediwizard, who would report whether Harry was fit enough to work as a teacher.

But Dumbledore pointed out that Harry would resent that imposition thoroughly, and reminded her of another healer appointed by the Ministry, Healer Smethwyck, who had nearly killed Harry after he had been stabbed in a Ministry corridor. Also of two healers who had signed committal papers for Harry, entirely without justification. He had never told Harry the names of those two healers, in case Harry went after them, but Harry had good reason to distrust the Ministry and to distrust healers.

"But he should not be over-taxing himself!" she exclaimed. "I saw him not long ago - he looks terrible!"

Albus pointed out gently, "He's better off doing something he enjoys and where I can keep an eye on him, than being miserably restless, and winding up doing something really dangerous."

"Was he that bad?"

"He was unhappy," said Dumbledore. "He's been sick so long, and it looks like he's not going to get better. It's a hard thing to resign yourself to being unwell all your life, and he's only thirty-eight, it's not like he's old, no matter how he looks at the moment."

"He collapsed after one of his healing sessions not long ago, and he took three hours to revive after being hit by an ordinary stunner!"

"He was hit by a stunner?" said Dumbledore in amazement, and he pressed for details. Like Harry, he thought it rather wonderful that when his enemies finally succeeded in putting a spell on Harry, they made the mistake of using a stunner instead of a Death Curse.

Finally, Dumbledore stood, saying gently to Madam Bones, "Don't worry, you can trust me to look after him as well as anyone can," and Madam Bones, who had had every intention of forbidding the re-employment of Harry Potter, found herself agreeing with him, and feeling that it would be a good thing after all for Harry to be doing the agreed two mornings a week.

Harry never knew of this attempted intervention in his life by the Ministry, which was fortunate, as he already had so little confidence in the Ministry, and especially its aurors.

***chapter end***


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer__: This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted, belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 12:_

Harry enjoyed the last weeks of the summer holidays a lot more than he'd enjoyed the first weeks. He always took pleasure in the company of his children, although finding a bit of competition from them for his company. Adam was becoming taller now, looking a lot like his father, David Bourne. Harry hadn't known David very well, but had liked what he had seen of the gentle, studious man.

The twins were rambunctious, nearly as much jokers as their uncles Fred and George.

James was eighteen months old, and at that wonderful time in life where everything is discovery. Harry loved playing with him, although Ginny kept as much an eye on Harry as she did on James. Even playing horsy for an active toddler had to have limits. Harry was very good and docile these days, he felt so much happier that his limitations almost ceased to bother him.

But most of all, he found a new pleasure in the company of Julia. Julia was very intelligent, and sometimes displayed a quirky humour that he enjoyed. Julia liked riding as much as he did. And sometimes the pair of them would have their horses frolicking and playing and bucking to the amusement and despair of onlookers.

Max still visited now and then. He was totally under Julia's spell, as were all the other males around, and most of the females besides. Julia was fifteen, and Harry quizzed her about her ambitions, but Julia was cagey, only saying that she might look for work at the Ministry when she left school.

Adam sometimes joined them when they rode together, but preferred it when Julia was not there. As Julia liked long rides that Harry could not do, so he often had his way. Adam never rode with Julia. None of Harry's other children liked or trusted Julia. Harry wasn't sure that he trusted her himself. He had never told her about Sirius Black's place, for instance, the hidden and nearly forgotten house in London that he had inherited when Sirius died.

The Hogwarts letters came. Julia was to be starting fifth year, and Harry stared as she opened her letter and a prefect badge fell out. Dumbledore had made his daughter, Julia Moore, who had tried to kill him, a prefect. Harry pulled himself together, and offered his congratulations, concealing his speculations about Dumbledore's reasons. Julia was, by far, the most outstanding pupil in her year, but she never displayed any concern for other people, and Harry wondered how she would go as a prefect. A prefect is supposed to be responsible, to look after the younger students, and, of course, not to commit any stray murders.

Tom Riddle, who grew up to become Voldemort, had been a prefect, and Harry finally came to the conclusion that the choice of Julia Moore for a prefect, was made in the hope that it would influence her decisions in life, that she would come down on the side of light, and not become a dark witch, as Harry still feared she would.

Albus Dumbledore had requested Harry to drop in to Hogwarts on Monday straight after his session with Hermione. He lunched there at the teacher's table, ignoring the buzz of comment from the students at his presence. He was given a warm welcome by the other teachers, who had been warned that he still looked very ill, and so refrained from comment.

Hagrid had nearly knocked him over again with an embrace, Severus Snape grabbing him as he staggered when he was let go. He still carried a cane, although he said that it was for hitting recalcitrant children. He had left his hair long, the women in his life agreeing that it looked good that way. And if his face was still thin and his cheeks hollow, his eyes were bright and he had a ready smile.

After lunch, Dumbledore started strolling with him to the hospital wing, but Harry asked immediately, "Albus, where are we going?"

Dumbledore said, "You promised that you'd let us look after you. You're to let Madam Pomfrey have a good look at you now, so that she knows what's normal for you."

Harry only sighed and followed, Dumbledore rather surprised that he had not protested.

There was no-one in the hospital this early in the term, and Harry distracted Poppy for a while with some general conversation. The school nurse was always very interested in the work that he did with Hermione. It was only when Dumbledore reminded her, that she came back to business, pulling out a new Nisco monitor.

"Oh, no," exclaimed Harry, "Not you, too."

But Dumbledore said, "Both Hermione and John Rutledge say that they find it quite indispensable, so I ordered one for Poppy. You'll just have to put up with it Harry."

But Madam Pomfrey had no intention of depending on some new fangled gadget, and she ordered Harry to take his shirt off. Harry looked at Dumbledore in a strong hint that he should leave. But Dumbledore only retreated a few steps, and looked away, as if pretending that he wasn't there at all, and Madam Pomfrey said briskly, "Come on, Harry, I'm only asking you to take your shirt off, for goodness sake!

Reluctantly, Harry slipped off his robe and his shirt. There was a silence, as Madam Pomfrey looked at him, rather shocked.

Harry reddened, and looked away, only to meet the eyes of Dumbledore, who was even more taken aback, as he took in the wretched appearance of the man.

Harry's flush died, but so had his vivacity, and he showed no emotion as he submitted to the examination that Madam Pomfrey put him through. She mentioned that at least his pulse was regular, but closely compared the findings on her monitor with those on a slip of paper. She finally finished, saying only, "Well, we'll just have to keep a close watch on you - see how you go."

Harry was quick to dress, and polite when he took his leave, but when he started along the corridor with Dumbledore, he asked coolly, "Have you changed your mind, Albus?"

Dumbledore turned to him and said, "Harry! Of course, I haven't changed my mind! You're to start tomorrow, and I have your timetable prepared in my office. But you must promise to come for help if you get too tired. There is nothing in your timetable that is more important than keeping you as healthy as possible."

In Dumbledore's office, Harry looked around, remembering the hours that he had spent listening enthralled as Dumbledore taught him some of what Dumbledore had learned throughout a long and varied life. He went to Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix, stroking him, and said, softly, dropping the cool veneer, "It's good to be back."

Dumbledore smiled at him and said huskily, emotion suddenly in his voice, "It's good to have you back. You've been missed."

The headmaster had worked hard on Harry's timetable, he had even modified the timetables of the sixth and seventh years, in order to make it as easy as possible for Harry. On both the Tuesday and the Thursday, Harry found that he was to spend two thirds of his time merely supervising senior students when they had free study periods. The rest of his time was to be spent as a helper in other classes.

Lunch was marked on his timetable - he was apparently specifically requested to be at Hogwarts for lunch, and he queried this with Dumbledore, who said, "Yes, you're to be here for lunch. In the Great Hall if you like, but if you're tired, there's a button to press in your office that will bring a house-elf, and you can ask for a tray. But you're not to leave until after lunch, and definitely not to leave if you're too tired to apparate. And I'll take you to Poppy myself if I have any doubt about that!"

Dumbledore watched Harry as he studied the timetable, hoping that he would not object. Harry was a very intelligent man, and would know instantly that he was not being treated as any other teacher would be treated. Harry, while apparently still studying his timetable, was thinking of another occasion. When he had first come to Hogwarts as an assistant teacher, he had been convinced that he was accepting charity, as he was totally unqualified. It had taken years to become confident that he was earning his money. This was the same. Dumbledore had done this, not because he needed a part-time teacher, but because Harry needed to be a part-time teacher. And he smiled a little wryly, as he said, "Thank you, Albus."

He suddenly looked up, a gleam of laughter in his face. "One thing - I won't have to hide from the senior girls any more, I'm enough of a wreck that there'll be none of that sort of problem!"

Harry's problems with the girl students were a standing joke among the rest of the staff at Hogwarts, including Dumbledore, and Dumbledore, like Harry, assumed that that would be a thing of the past. In that, they were wrong. There was something about Harry's sexual attraction that survived in spite of hollow cheeks and skinny body, although certainly the problem was greatly reduced.

The following day, Harry started work. He apparated to just outside the main gates, but immediately drawing his wand and swearing to himself, looking about himself defensively as he hurried into shelter. From the gate house, he looked back, studying the trees.

He was about to go after whoever was hiding in the trees, but Jack and Sturgis were watching. They stopped him, pointing out that security was their job. So Harry waited, leaning against the little shelter, wand still raised, as Jack and Sturgis cautiously approached the trees, until there was a crack, as somebody disapparated. So he thanked the security guards, and warned them that he probably would not use that route again.

"How are you going to get in and out, Harry?" asked Jack, ever hopeful that Harry might explain. But Harry only laughed, saying nothing.

Irrespective of potential attackers, Harry was in good spirits as he went to his first lesson.

The sixth year class knew him of old, and took only a little time to forget his changed appearance, and start treating him as their Mr. Potter, who could be trusted to help with any and all branches of magic - except maybe Potions.

Harry was ecstatic to be back. It was not quite two years that he'd been away, and it seemed to him that he was suddenly normal again. With regard to Harry's interests, Dumbledore had allotted him to Hagrid for the last period before lunch, and Harry spent the time happily playing with Nifflers with a group of fourth year students.

He was still feeling happy and with energy to spare as he walked back to the castle, only using his cane intermittently. He saw Julia and Adam in some sort of confrontation as he passed, but, while curious, he left them alone.

After lunch, he vanished into the trees, circled until he found the old tree that could lead a reasonably active person over the wall, but was disconcerted to find that he no longer had the strength to leap up to the first branch, as he had done so often before. Surely there had been a lower branch that he had used.

He stood there alone, not wanting to risk the main gate, and now the wall appeared to be as unclimbable for him as it was for everyone else. He had just thought of conjuring himself a ladder, when he tried something else.

Everyone knew that _no-one_ could apparate within the bounds of Hogwarts. But Harry Potter extended his senses and felt for the spell, as he did with some of the 'unbreakable' spells that he broke for his patients sometimes. He was never able to explain what he did to anyone else, the best explanation he could offer in words was that somehow he went around the edge of the spell. Harry silently disapparated from the Hogwarts side of the wall, and reappeared in the small apparation zone he had left in his own home.

Harry had ignored an anti-apparation charm before, at Ron and Hermione's wedding, but only Kingsley Shacklebolt had realised what he had done. Harry, himself, like a few other observers, only thought that the charm had not been put on properly. HehhhAnd he'd totally failed to overcome another charm in a hospital ward when he was threatened. But this time he had succeeded, he knew that he had succeeded, and was very pleased with himself.

On Thursday morning, Harry apparated straight into his office from home, and was at the school before anyone knew that he was there. With his habitual caginess about his magic, he never mentioned to anyone that he had learned to ignore the anti-apparation spells that protected the castle. But he apparated from then on, straight into and out of his office.

He did his work with content, and felt well and happy, but, to his annoyance, Dumbledore had him report to Madam Pomfrey for a checkup before he left, and Madam Pomfrey decreed that his energy levels were too low to risk apparating. Ginny was informed, and Harry had to stay overnight.

Even this had its compensations, he lounged in the library, reading, and even spent a short time in the gym, wearing a long sleeved shirt and long pants, in case anyone came in. He hated people seeing his scrawniness. But the colours of the conjured exercise clothes reflected his spirits. They were brilliant red, with streaks of bright yellow-green, quite Christmassy in fact. Whatever the monitor said, Harry felt so happy to be back, that he was convinced that he was suddenly really getting better.

Monday, Harry was back in Hermione's office, doing his spell-breaking session. Hermione was pleased to see him in such good spirits, and risked annoying him by insisting on doing an examination afterward. Bedwin was banished from the office as always, and listened in, as always, even though he hardly ever discovered anything of use, as Harry never discussed Hermione's findings with her, and Bedwin only overheard the odd lecture on not doing too much and being sure to eat well. But Hermione did notice something different that day, and quietly organised a meeting with Madam Pomfrey.

The weeks went by mostly without incident. There was one Thursday when Harry was caught out. He had become too enthusiastic in his teaching, after a day when he'd had a difficult spell to break, and when the students left, he stayed at the desk in the classroom, wearily dropping his head into his arms. One of his students told on him, and Dumbledore found him looking very tired and pale, still in the classroom a half hour later. He would have to stay the night again. And this time Harry did in fact, lie on his bed for the afternoon, even sleeping for a time.

He was better for dinner, and was able to laugh and joke with his fellow teachers as if there was nothing wrong with him. But Dumbledore took him aside after dinner to give him orders that he must report to Madam Pomfrey in the morning before he went home.

Harry agreed with perfect docility, which made Dumbledore look at him with some suspicion. He did Harry an injustice. Harry was happy, thought he was getting better, whether he was or not, and knew how much he owed Dumbledore.

That night, in the bedroom that led off from his office, he had one of his nightmares. Ginny could almost always recognise what was happening as soon as he started muttering and fidgeting in his sleep, and could cut it off with some murmured reassurances, scarcely even waking up herself. But this time she was not there, and the nightmare ran its full cycle, leaving him sitting white and trembling on the edge of the bed.

After a time, he rose, dressed, and prowled the corridors as he had often done when he'd lived at Hogwarts as a single man.

He saw several people, in the small hours of the morning, but no-one saw him. He came across some romantic couples, and saw Julia slipping silently down the corridor back toward the Slytherin rooms. It seemed to him that there was more life around after dark than there used to be, and wondered if the new, and more lenient caretaker might have had something to do with it. Tony Boots had replaced Argus Filch, when Filch had suddenly died in a temper over some muddy footprints. Only Filch's cat mourned for two days, before, it too, died.

That morning, after breakfast, he went to see Madam Pomfrey, as ordered, and was stunned and disbelieving when she still prohibited him from apparating. He felt fine, and when Dumbledore found him in the library, he wasn't reading, but sitting, staring out the window, and drumming his fingers.

"What's up, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"Nothing, I guess, Albus," said Harry. "I know I promised to be good."

"But is it really so bad here?"

Harry was missing Ginny, they had hardly ever been apart at night since they married, except when Harry had been very sick. But Harry was ashamed that he could not do without his wife for even a couple of nights, and he only said, "Madam Pomfrey said that I was to come back after lunch, and she'd see then."

But just then Jack, the security guard poked his head into the library, saw Harry, and entered, followed by Ginny.

"Hello, Harry," said Ginny.

Harry stood to greet her, smiling broadly now. "Poppy kept me here - sorry, love."

"I can apparate with you as a passenger, if Poppy won't let you."

"So you can," and Harry turned to Dumbledore, "That OK, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. It was perfectly clear now to him why Harry had been fretting. But Harry said, "I'd best just tell Poppy I've gone, before we go," and Ginny and Harry left Dumbledore to head toward the hospital. Dumbledore noticed he was using his cane more than usual.

Madam Pomfrey took out her monitor again as Harry and Ginny approached, and Harry waited patiently as she took her readings, and again said that Harry should not apparate, but that Ginny could take him if she wanted.

It seemed strange to Harry to allow Ginny to apparate with him when he felt perfectly all right. Ron had taken him a couple of times, and he knew what to do, just make sure to keep his mind right off apparation.

Ginny was actually a bit nervous. Most of the apparations she had done with a passenger were with stunned prisoners, and her husband was a different matter. There was no problem, and they were very quickly home, but Harry had murmured to Ginny just before they left, and instead of returning to within the house, they went to the apparation zone some distance from the house, and then walked a bit further to a certain thick grove of trees...

When they emerged a while later, Harry looked at the distance to walk back to the house, and whistled. It was only a few minutes when Sheba cantered to him. Harry used a convenient stepping stone to scramble on, and the mare walked sedately back, with Ginny walking alongside. For Ginny it was a pleasant walk, but Harry still found a need for his horse.

It was quiet at home. The twins were still at school, and James, who had been left in the charge of the cook, was having a nap. Ginny sent Harry to have a nap, too. She may not have had use of a monitor, but she knew her husband, and could detect signs of fatigue when he still thought he was fine.

***Chapter end***


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 13:_

On the weekend, Ginny was to fetch Gemme. As promised, Gemme was to have some visits with Harry's girls. Dudley's boys, Mark and Simon, were luckily heavily involved in sports, and in any case, a lot less interested in their uncle than Gemme had always been.

Gemme, if anything, was rather more lively than Harry's girls, which made for a not very restful weekend. The girls made themselves a cubby house, burnt out a paddock when they decided that they needed a campfire, took James for a walk and forgot about him so that he was found an hour later, all by himself in the horse paddock, and last of all, they decided to ride Harry's horses.

Amazingly, no-one was hurt. There was even a child on Sheba, who had been so unmanageable when Harry had bought her, and had tried to savage Julia when she had tried the same thing. But there were the three horses, sedately walking around and around the horse paddock. In the lead was Toby, who had apparently remembered his days at the riding school.

It was Jimmy Carr who found them, and was so surprised that instead of getting the girls off the horses straight away, he sent to the house to fetch Harry and Ginny. Hermione with her baby, came too. Harry was thrilled with his horses, especially Sheba, and was apt to bore his acquaintances for the next several years talking about their remarkable intelligence.

The girls' interest in riding didn't last, or Harry might have decided he needed a couple more horses. And with the experience of the last horse sale that Harry had gone to, Ginny thought that if he were ever allowed to go to one again, he'd probably wind up bringing back a dozen!

Madam Pomfrey had been in touch with Hermione, and Hermione wanted to make sure that Harry was all right before tackling his spell-breaking session on Monday. Harry was very well looked after, and did not appreciate it nearly as much as he should have done. Hermione found the energy levels still down a bit, but again, the LV levels were up. Hermione and Poppy had spoken to each other, but not to Harry. They didn't want him to start hoping too much, and probably being disappointed.

But Harry didn't need the readings of a Nisco monitor to hope. He felt better every day, and being forbidden to apparate, or being too tired to leave a classroom, didn't stop him. Harry thought he was getting better, and tackled his gymnasium exercises with renewed perseverance, and even, at last, started to put on a little weight.

Hermione was in two minds about allowing Harry to tackle Monday's session. She eventually spoke seriously to him. She was going to allow him to do only the routine easy cases that day. If any difficult ones came up, they had to be referred to a later date, and he was not to even _start _trying to do those. It was quick enough to see whether there would be any difficulty with a cure, she knew.

Luckily on Monday, Harry did the five routine cures without the slightest effort. Bedwin was into a routine now, too, cutting thanks off short, and escorting patients ruthlessly out the door. It was not entirely for Harry's sake. Madam Bones had quizzed him about Harry's work, and he knew that the Ministry placed considerable importance on it, and did not want Harry wasting energy. The sessions tended to be very short.

With the two sessions every week, Harry was starting to whittle down the waiting list, but he was beginning to feel imposed on sometimes. He thought that maybe people should take more care not to get themselves cursed. He had not chosen to be a mediwizard, and if one day, he and Ginny decided to go away for a year or a decade, no thought of obligations to spell-bound people was going to stop them. It was not his fault that he appeared to be the only one who could break certain spells!

Hermione would never accept payment for her services to Harry, but as she pointed out to him, she was now very well known as Healer Granger, the healer who had the services of Harry Potter. She had benefited from his services, too.

Harry continued happy in his work. He now had something specific to do four days in a week, and was quite often tempted to stay longer at Hogwarts than he was actually supposed to do. He started to do some informal remedial work in the afternoons, as individual students came to him for help. Dumbledore quietly observed, but didn't interfere.

More weeks went by. Harry was content, felt good, and only rarely did Madam Pomfrey forbid him to apparate. He got on well with his students, enjoyed the company of the other teachers, and was convinced that he was improving in health, although he was wary of the monitor, and never asked to look at the readings.

There was potential for conflict with Hermione, though. Until Harry actually tried breaking a spell, it could not be predicted which of the patients would be difficult. It was not that the difficult ones were really that difficult for Harry, just that they tended to make him tired. But it was only a few that were like this, and rare that he found one that defeated him. All of these patients, of course, were those that the mediwizards had not helped, even though breaking spells for patients was a routine part of their jobs.

One Monday, toward the end of November, Harry did two routine patients, then struck a difficult one. When the casual wave of his wand didn't do the trick, Harry concentrated, felt the spell, raised his wand, and a gentle tingling in the air could be felt. It took only a minute or two, and the patient was cured, Bedwin steered him out the door, and it was time for the next one.

But Hermione put up her hand, and instructed Harry to wait. She brought out her monitor, ignoring Harry's impatient frown, and took her readings. Without comment, she indicated to him that he could proceed. Harry did the fourth, the fifth came in, and again the initial casual wave of the wand failed to work.

He started to concentrate then, as he had before. But Hermione said, firmly. "No, Harry, this one will have to wait."

Harry wheeled on her indignantly, but stopped himself. He retreated, sitting on Hermione's desk, looking at the wall, while Hermione tried to explain to the patient that he would have to wait for another appointment. The patient was looking accusingly at Harry, and when Hermione returned, after leading out the protesting man, Harry said, "Hermione, why did you stop me? You know it's not hard!"

"You can't be allowed to wear yourself out." said Hermione.

But Harry was indignant. "It's not fair on the patient. He was all set, and now he's been put off, and I would have taken about a minute to fix him!"

Bedwin rashly put in then, "The Ministry of Magic would tell you that it's most important to look after your own health!"

Harry rounded on him furiously, his anger making poor Bedwin recoil. "The Ministry of Magic can just keep out of my life! I might allow Hermione to tell me what to do, the Ministry does not!"

Harry was pale, still angry, even shaking. He retreated to a place leaning against the wall, looking for self control. It was not like him to lose his temper over a trifle.

After a moment, he apologised. "Sorry, Bedwin. Probably Hermione was right. Maybe I am a bit tired," and when Hermione brought out her monitor, except for a slight frown reappearing, he said nothing. But he had used up as much energy being angry as he would have done healing the man, and Ron had to be called to take him home. Ginny, on Hermione's advice, insisted he stay home the day after as well.

That anger was uncharacteristic, and worried Hermione. Surely it was not a great tragedy for a man who had been three years cursed to put up with another week or so.

Harry didn't really understand it himself. He didn't like being stopped when he'd started to do something, but to totally lose his temper, when he was mostly so happy these days, was unexpected.

He continued volatile for several weeks, even over Christmas. Luckily for his students, he enjoyed teaching sufficiently that he never lost his temper during lessons, but two unlucky students caught bullying a third received a thorough tongue lashing, and when a girl student caught him in the gym trying to use the rowing machine, (in subdued green exercise clothes this time,) and dared to stare at him, she too was very sorry.

With his thin face, hollow cheeks, scars and long black hair, there were some of the girls who thought that he looked rather romantic, but he had no trouble repulsing them these days, the ready anger immediately rising to the surface.

He occasionally saw his children around the school, of course, although they were not in any of his classes. Adam often joined him for lunch in his office. Julia seemed to be avoiding him.

There was one day in early February, that Madam Pomfrey had again forbidden him to apparate so that he had had to stay the night, when he felt a need to walk and walk. He went out into the grounds that evening after dark, automatically walking to the tree that he'd used so many times to cross the wall. This time he found he could reach the lowest limb, and climbed over the wall almost as easily as he had in earlier years. He should have been pleased, but he scarcely noticed. He was exhausted when he returned, and forbidden again to apparate the day after, so that Ginny came to fetch him.

Dumbledore knew a lot of what went on at Hogwarts, and sometimes he was prey to insomnia, too. One midnight, Dumbledore saw Harry return from a walk outside the grounds, and he was exhausted and staggering, and at breakfast, Snape mentioned to Dumbledore that he'd seen him wandering the corridors in the early hours of the morning, as well.

More often now, Harry was getting himself over-tired, and as he never managed to have a restful night when he stayed at Hogwarts, Ginny started routinely coming for him instead. He was having nightmares more frequently at home, too, and Ginny found that she could no longer as easily cut them short with a few soothing words, so he was missing sleep in his own home, too.

At last, Dumbledore spoke to him. He knew that Harry had arranged to spend a hour after lunch with three students who were having difficulty with conjuring, and Dumbledore asked him to join him afterward for afternoon tea. Harry was looking pale and tired as Dumbledore brought out the standard tea and scones, but Dumbledore thought that he was looking less thin.

They talked generally for a time, Harry rather abstracted, but making conversation with automatic courtesy. And then at last, Dumbledore asked directly, "What's the matter, Harry?"

Harry just looked back at Dumbledore, and said, perfectly honestly, "I don't know." He continued. "I'm ashamed of myself. I have everything to make me happy, and I have to battle not to snap at people for no reason. Instead of being sensible, I go for a five mile walk, and then, of course, I can't apparate."

Dumbledore asked, "I have taught you to meditate, to look inside yourself for answers. Have you done that?"

"Yes, and I still don't know why I'm so edgy," said Harry. "Perhaps it's something external..."

That day Julia started brewing a potion. Slytherin prefects had a room to themselves, so there was very little risk of discovery, even though the difficult and subtle poison she was preparing would take over a month to make. Julia now had in her possession several books taken from the restricted section of the library. She had obtained them by the simple method of seducing the assistant librarian. He was now totally under her spell, and helped her find the books of powerful and insidious poisons that she wanted.

Julia didn't know why she wanted to make herself expert in the art of poisoning, but that was what she was working on while the rest of her year fretted and studied for their OWLs.

Five weeks later, the poison was finished.

Harry finished a quick and easy session at Hermione's, but instead of going home, walked through the alley and entered muggle London through the Leaky Cauldron. He was walking fast, and being rather careless for Harry, but suddenly he stopped, looked back, and recognised a Ministry auror following him. He stepped into a shadowy doorway and silently vanished, reappearing only a couple of streets away. He didn't know what he wanted to do, he just knew that he did not want Ministry spies following him.

He'd neglected to take off his cape before he entered muggle London, and he gradually became aware that he was being noticed. He could have been an impressive figure as he strode out with his cape billowing around him, swinging his cane, but muggles interpreted it differently, and as he passed a pub, he heard a scattering of comments. "Queer!" they said, and jeering laughter followed him.

He stopped, turning. Now he knew what he wanted. He wanted a fight, and these fools were going to offer him the opportunity.

Harry knew it was not muggle etiquette just to suggest a fight. There were supposed to be some insults first, and maybe a bit of pushing and shoving. But now he was filled with anticipation, and impatient with the preliminaries. He tried to remind himself that it was wrong to provoke a fight, that muggle fighting was a barbaric thing unsuited to either muggle or wizard. But he wanted to hit!

He never gave a thought to being thin and weak, that he was not supposed to overtire himself, that he had a healer as well as the school nurse still fussing over him, not to mention the Ministry of Magic trying to keep an eye on him as well. But still, he restrained himself a little, and instead of simply suggesting a fight, he went to the bar, and asked for the drink with the most effeminate image he could think of, a 'Fluffy Duck.' They said he was queer, well, he was certainly unusual, and he wanted the ignorant young men to discover at the end of his fist that he was unusual.

He turned, sipping at his drink, looking provocatively at the three young men at their table. There was more laughter and catcalling, until he thought there was enough excuse to cross to them and suggest that he take them on, one at a time.

To his acute disappointment, suddenly they were shuffling their feet, looking at each other, and one even apologised.

Harry's face fell, and he said, "Are you sure? No-one will fight me?"

"Sit down," said one, unexpectedly.

Harry looked gloomy, but sat down, as the men gave their names.

"My name's Harry," said Harry, and he sipped at his drink again, making a face. It was really not to his taste.

"Can I buy us a beer?" and he went back and bought four beers, abandoning the fancy drink that he'd bought for effect.

He talked a while with the men, discovering that they were not bad blokes after all, but he was still restless and got up to leave.

"Why do you want to fight?" asked one, consumed with curiosity.

Harry was vague, "I've just been out of sorts lately, and there's nothing like a fight to take your mind off things." He added, suddenly hopeful, "You haven't changed your mind, have you? I promise I won't hit hard."

One of the men said frankly, "You don't look strong enough to hit at all - and you carry a walking stick."

When Harry was out of sight, he abandoned his cane, but he left his cape on and tried a different pub, finally getting what he wanted, when a large man, half drunk, responded to his provocative appearance with insults, then took a swing at him when he just smiled.

Harry dodged easily, and suggested they go out into the alley way. The man wasn't much of a challenge, though, backing off exhausted after just a few minutes with a few minor bruises.

Harry still hadn't a mark on him, wasn't satisfied, and was grateful when the man's mate strode forward to take over. This one was a better proposition, and Harry took a few blows, finding that he was not as fast as he'd been last time he had fought. He had no trouble in landing a few blows, too, although it was only when the man hurt him, that he abandoned restraint and fought back as hard as he could, finally felling the man with a beautiful uppercut to the jaw.

There was a cheering audience by now, including the three young men who had seen which way he went, and curiously followed him. His opponent was already getting to his feet again, although shaking his head dizzily and backing off. His opponent had had enough.

Harry, too, was finally satisfied, feeling better than he had for months. Only then did he notice that he was a bit tired. His need had been great enough that he had forgotten that he was not a well man.

A large black man came forward, grabbing him as he started to fall, and Harry was unconscious when the man lifted him easily and started to step away to a place where he would not be seen.

Three young men glanced at each other, and challenged him. "What're you doing with Harry?" one called.

Jebedee Shacklebolt, newly qualified auror, carefully put down his burden, took out his wand, and modified their memories, so that three quite decent young men, feeling slightly dazed, wandered off back to their original pub.

Jebedee Shacklebolt, a man as large as his father, Kingsley Shacklebolt, picked up Harry again, and apparated into an inner office in the Ministry of Magic. The atrium was not really the only area where it was possible to apparate within the Ministry buildings. There was this little office, too.

Jebedee conjured a narrow bed, deposited Harry onto it, and poked his head into the corridor to send a message. Harry had totally exhausted himself. The Ministry had its way, and he was given a thorough examination by the Ministry Healer, while he still lay unconscious. Afterward, after some discussion, arrangements were made, and Jebedee picked him up again and took him to Hermione's, not her office but her home.

Back at Hogwarts, Julia suddenly looked into the distance. A vision had crossed her mind, of a large black man carrying the limp figure of her father. She skipped the next lesson, going into the Forbidden Forest instead, to think. She could still see that picture, Harry's head sagged back and his eyes closed. One arm had hung, palm up, fingers open and empty. She knew that he was not dead. She was sure that she would know if he had died. He'd probably just collapsed again.

But Julia paced the forest floor, thinking. She remembered Harry as he had been, and that picture of Harry and Ginny in their grove of trees resurfaced. She had been only eleven at the time, but the eroticism of the picture had disturbed her even then, and she remembered it clearly. She assumed that all that was finished, now. In her youth, she thought that sex was limited to the young and healthy, and Harry, just thirty-eight, was no longer young and healthy.

Jebedee Shacklebolt gave a thorough report to Madam Bones about the circumstances in which he had picked up Harry, and the mediwizard gave his findings. According to Healer Smythe, the man was very much underweight, the energy levels were rockbottom, accounting for the prolonged faint, and the LV reading was a very low 45. Another page was added to the Ministry folder that contained information about Harry Potter, and Madam Bones wondered again whether she should forbid Dumbledore to employ him at Hogwarts, although he was still only doing two half days a week.

Hermione was not particularly perturbed about Harry, now on the bed in her spare room. His LV readings had continued their gradual rise, up to 45 now, and although he had exhausted himself, it was not the first time, and he'd recover, she knew. And she was pleased with his continuing weight gain. Not that he was going to escape a lecture about fighting, of course!

Harry's faint turned into sleep, which turned into a nightmare. But instead of the usual confused images of confinement and helplessness, Julia's face kept appearing. She was older, and while still beautiful, her eyes showed red and she was caressing a snake... Harry fretted and muttered in his sleep.

Back at Hogwarts, Julia had finally come to a decision. She took out her wand, and vanished the poison, cauldron and all. She packed up the stolen library books and buried them at the bottom of her trunk.

Harry turned over in bed, settled himself again, and drifted into the most peaceful sleep he'd had for months.

When he woke, it was late. A nightlight had been left on, and he stared at the ceiling before rising, using a little magic to clean his clothes, and dressed. It was only when he left the room that he realised where he was. The house was quiet, everyone in bed. But Harry was hungry, and Ron found him rummaging in the kitchen, looking for something to eat.

"I got into a fight," Harry said. "I guess I lost!"

But Ron said, "Well, according to Jebedee Shacklebolt, who brought you here, you thrashed two muggles, and only then passed out."

"Who did you say?" asked Harry.

"Jebedee Shacklebolt, he's an auror, son of Kingsley."

"Oh, yes, I remember him as a student, as big as his father, but with more hair and no ear ring. So he's an auror now!"

But Harry still had his mind on food. "Do you mind if I make myself some bread and butter? I'm awfully hungry."

An hour later, they were still sitting at the table. Ron had decided that he wouldn't mind a midnight snack as well. For someone who had been fighting, still bore some nasty bruises, and was supposed to be unfit, Harry was looking happy and relaxed, and was displaying a good appetite.

Ron and Harry had been friends a long time, and they were beginning to forget that it was the middle of the night, and when Ron laughed uproariously at something that Harry said, a baby cried, and Hermione appeared, annoyed with them.

"Sorry, Hermione," said Harry, "And thanks for looking after me. Don't know why you put up with me, actually."

"Sometimes, I don't know why, myself!" said Hermione, still rather cross, and yawning, and she vanished to look after Ben, but poking her head back around the door. "And don't even _think_ of going home, Harry. You're staying here until I give you the all clear!"

Ron remembered that he had to go to work in the morning, and they both went to bed. Harry was still in good spirits, and the pyjamas he conjured for himself, reflected that, purest flame red.

Ginny arrived early in the morning, as Hermione was examining Harry. Ron was watching, swinging a foot, his rump perched on a high bench.

"You're still awfully thin," he said critically.

Harry denied it indignantly. "I'm not so thin any more, I'm getting quite fat, even." And he went to the mirror, and studied himself, "Getting quite fat!" he said again, with satisfaction.

They laughed at him, but Hermione was pleased. "You may not be fat, precisely, but you're a lot better than you were."

Harry was looking at Hermione, "I am getting better," he said, challenging her to disagree.

Hermione pulled out her monitor, seeing Harry's usual annoyed frown at the gesture. But she took her readings, and finally said "Harry?" still holding the device in place. "Look!"

Harry looked, and a smile spread over his face. "I knew it. I am going to get better!"

There was a decision needed. It was time for Harry to go to work if he was going, and now that Hermione had told him what he wanted to hear, Harry was willing to be guided by Hermione's decision. He was quicker to recover these days, and she gave her assent to him apparating to Hogwarts, only holding him up long enough to treat his bruises.

At Hogwarts, Dumbledore had passed the classroom where students were expecting Harry, and noticed that he was not yet present. Unusually, Harry was late, he was not in his office, and Dumbledore was watching for him, waiting to see him cross the grounds from the gates, or even the forest.

He finally gave up, it looked like Harry was not coming to work, although he had not heard from him, but when he walked back, there was laughter coming from Harry's class, and he found him there, eyes alight with laughter and enthusiasm, as he demonstrated the spell that he told his students was so easy.

The classes where Professor Potter was supposed to be supervising silent revision or homework had evolved. There was now discussion among the students prior to the class, they would decide what they wanted, and Harry was always pleased to accommodate their wishes. He was extremely knowledgeable now, and could help in just about every subject. He had even done some reading in subjects such as Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, finding them with their own interest.

Only when his students ventured to ask him questions about Muggle Studies, did they sometimes regret it. Harry was very strong on ethics when dealing with muggles, and his students tended to be more interested in the funny things that muggles did, rather than the ethics of dealing with them.

The headmaster was intrigued. How did Harry get to work? He knew that he avoided the main gates, and he knew that Harry, at one time, had routinely climbed the unclimbable wall. But Harry had not appeared in the grounds at all as far as he had seen, and he finally concluded that he must be using one of the secret passages.

After lunch, he took him aside, "Harry, how are you getting into the castle? Are you using a secret passage?"

Harry answered the direct question, "No, I don't really like underground passages much. I use a different route."

"Are you going to tell me? asked Dumbledore, wondering why Harry was looking uncomfortable.

Harry told himself not to be silly. This was Dumbledore, and it was not really a matter for shame, after all. He came clean, although reddening as he did so. "I apparate."

"What, into the castle?" said Dumbledore, incredulous.

Harry nodded, now blushing crimson.

"Well, well, well," said Dumbledore, not knowing what else to say. And he walked with Harry to Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry had been kept back so often by Madam Pomfrey in the last couple of months that Dumbledore had insisted he go there for a clearance every day as a routine, and Harry had complied.

Dumbledore waited for him as Poppy used the monitor, and gave him the nod.

Harry walked with Dumbledore back toward his office. Julia was waiting for him, leaning against the wall in a casual pose that suddenly looked very familiar to Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore, Uncle Harry," she said, straightening respectfully. (Edward Moore was Dad or Father, as he always had been.) "I've been waiting for you, Uncle Harry."

"So I see," said Harry, "But don't you have a class?"

"It's a free period," lied Julia easily.

Dumbledore was amused. He kept as close a watch on Julia, as he could, and knew that she should have been in a Transfiguration class. If Harry knew, he said nothing, but invited Julia into his office, as Dumbledore went off.

Julia had nothing particular to talk to Harry about. She was certainly not going to tell him about the poison she had so carefully brewed, and then scrapped. Or those forbidden and stolen books she had in her trunk. (She was keeping her options open.) She had been interested in seeing Harry, seeing how he was looking, and curious about the circumstances that led to his presumed collapse.

But Harry wasn't going to tell her that he had been in a muggle fight - he didn't want to be a bad example to his children. So they talked pleasantly and generally for a time before Julia took her leave, and Harry left for home.

It seemed that the pair hadn't said anything as they talked, but something had been communicated. Julia was no longer avoiding Harry, and Harry no longer felt the worry that had been making him so irritable since before Christmas.

Julia did not totally abandon the assistant librarian. She might have a future use for him, so she played up to him, just sufficiently that he stayed interested and cooperative, and looked after her interests by concealing the theft of six library books from the restricted section. Julia was really very good at what she did...

***chapter end***


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 14:_

A few days later, Harry brought his broomstick to Hogwarts. He couldn't really use a broomstick much at his home, you had to keep below the trees so as not to be seen from neighbouring properties, and Harry's broomstick did not get on well with trees. It had been a long time since he'd flown a broomstick. To a large extent, the horses had taken the place of flying in his life, with the advantage that they were not influenced by his old handicap. Horses did not keep turning to the left just because of something in Harry. On the other hand, horses didn't fly!

He mounted his broomstick and soared into the air, feeling the joy and exhilaration of flying as he always did. He didn't want to get tired, and be forbidden from apparating, so he only did some fairly gentle acrobatics, but could not resist going into a steep dive, and hurtling as fast as he could toward the ground, before pulling up, and, slightly regretfully, dismounting. Next time, he'd do more.

There had been an audience. Hagrid and his thirty students, had seen him. Albus Dumbledore had happened to see him with broomstick in hand, and had come out to watch. Even Madam Pomfrey had seen him when a patient had called her to the window, feeling real pleasure at the sight of Harry Potter playing again on his broomstick. She was pleased to be able to give him the all clear to apparate home when he reported to her. She knew how he hated to be kept back.

There had been a change in Harry, which Dumbledore noticed straight away. His irritability had vanished, and he no longer over-tired himself. He lifted his decree that Harry had to report to Madam Pomfrey every day before disapparating.

"Good," said Harry. "It always made me feel like a naughty little boy having to check in every day - as if I don't know myself what I can and can't do!"

Dumbledore smiled; he thought that was exactly what Harry didn't know. Harry was always over optimistic.

Harry was watching him, sometimes Harry could read minds almost as well as Dumbledore could. He suddenly said, "I'm getting better, you know, and it's not just me who thinks so - even the wretched monitor says so!"

Dumbledore already knew, as he'd been told by Madam Pomfrey. But he acted surprised and pleased. Harry didn't talk about readings on the monitor. He only said that he was getting a lot fatter, that maybe soon he needn't be ashamed to take his shirt off. "I think I even found a muscle the other day!"

There was something he'd been wondering about, and he raised the question with Dumbledore. "Ages ago, Albus, the Ministry invited me to become a member of the Wizemgamot. If Hermione says I'm allowed to, now, and if the invitation is still open, how will I fit it in with my job here?"

Dumbledore told him not to worry, that serving on the Wizemgamot was an important role, and would take priority over his teaching.

So Harry consulted Hermione and Ginny, and then requested an appointment with Madam Bones, Minister for Magic. He was afraid that by now, the invitation would have been withdrawn, and it was something he very much wanted to do. He thought that it would be harder for her to deny him face to face, than if he sent a letter.

Madam Bones stood up as he entered her office at the appointed time. He greeted her, called her Madam Bones, as etiquette dictated for the Minister for Magic. But she smiled at him, and said, "Please Harry, call me Amelia."

Harry thought this had to be a good sign. A wizard arrived then, with coffee and an afternoon tea. Amelia had been re-reading some of the reports that had been compiled on Harry, especially that report that he didn't know about, the examination that he had been subjected to while unconscious. No-one had ever admitted to him that they had taken advantage of his faint, so he knew nothing of the contents of the report and its conclusions. That dossier was now securely locked away again in the desk.

Amelia Bones asked Harry about his cures, and about his teaching, until he thought there had been enough preliminary courtesies, and finally brought up the matter of the Wizemgamot and his invitation to become a member.

Madam Bones was rather taken aback - this was the last thing she had expected. According to all her information, Harry was still far too sick to consider such a thing. That medical report had only been a month ago. She hedged, refusing to give a straight answer.

But Harry knew what he wanted, and finally put her on the spot? "Are you saying that the invitation is no longer open? That I can't do it?"

Madam Bones finally gave her reasons, "Of _course_, you can do it - just as soon as you're well enough!"

Harry was frowning. "I'm well enough now. Why do you think I'm here?"

"According to my information, you are still far too sick."

"_What_ information" demanded Harry, and he suddenly remembered that an auror had had him at the Ministry not long before. Madam Bones saw his gathering realisation and resulting anger as he realised what had happened, and Madam Bones quickly said that if he could get a signed medical clearance from his own healer, she would make no further objection.

Harry had what he wanted, but he had also learned something that he didn't want to know. He should have known. He knew they liked to spy on him. And he wondered now if he wanted to be in the Wizemgamot, after all. He stared at Madam Bones, still angry, and suddenly stood, said briefly, "I'll be in touch," and left without a further word, leaving Madam Bones feeling shaken. Harry Potter could be formidable, and he did not even realise how impressive his rare anger could be. And it was not as if he'd given free reign to that anger. Thinking about it later, Amelia Bones thought that he'd really been quite restrained.

Harry simmered down after a time, and after all, it could have been a lot worse. The Ministry had retrieved him from the muggle pub, had not sent him to St. Mungo's where he felt so unsafe, but had instead merely taken him to Hermione's. They really could not have done better. He had sent a thanks at the time, and although now he knew that they had taken the opportunity to check him over, probably with a healer he would not have wanted, he had obviously not been hurt, and really, he should have realised. He was always convinced that his 'bodyguards' were mostly there to spy on him. He sent a perfectly polite note back to Madam Bones, with a signed clearance from Healer Granger.

Three weeks later, the Wizemgamot gathered to welcome its new member, Harry Potter, Order of Merlin, First Class.

_**x**_

In May, Julia had her sixteenth birthday, and Harry took the opportunity of the short Easter holidays, to take her to Diagon Alley. This was Julia's favourite treat, and she had never had much opportunity to enjoy it. Ginny apparated with Julia, then left her with Harry while she went off to do her own business.

Harry enjoyed Julia's company, amused at the admiration she attracted wherever they went. It was almost as good as a disguise, he thought. No-one was taking the slightest notice of him. Even the aurors had not appeared, although why that should make Harry feel safer rather than more threatened, he was not quite sure.

They made some purchases, which Harry magically sent home, rather then having his hands full, and then went to the ice-cream shop. Julia was indulging Harry here, rather than the reverse. In the conceit of her beauty, she would as soon not be seen doing something as undignified as eating an ice-cream, but it had never stopped Harry.

Why did Draco Malfoy always catch him eating an ice-cream? Draco sat down with them, casually, arrogantly, as if never doubting his welcome. Harry introduced him to Julia Moore, a young friend of his.

Malfoy had heard about Harry's beautiful illegitimate daughter, and was very interested in her. Yet, watching him, Harry was convinced that he had not been snared by her sexual attraction, as nearly every male was. Draco had an instinct for knowing influential people, and Julia was going to be a very important person one day. Harry was almost ignored as Draco spoke to Julia, quizzing her about her ambitions.

Julia was cool, poised, dignified. Looking at them together, Harry recognised something of the same qualities. They knew how to influence people, and could be thoroughly ruthless while they did it.

"You must meet my son," Draco said to Julia. "He's a year or two older than you, but I think you'd get on well."

"I didn't know you had a son!" said Harry in surprise.

Draco gave him a bare glance, he was still concentrating on Julia. "He doesn't go to Hogwarts."

Ginny had arranged to meet them at Gringotts, and Julia could stay a bit longer with Ginny. But Harry was to go home. He was a lot less likely to over-tire himself these days, but Harry never stayed out too long in public for fear of attack.

_**x**_

Important exams were coming up, OWLs for the fifth years, and NEWTs for the seventh years, and Dumbledore asked Harry if he'd be willing to stay whole days Tuesdays and Thursdays, as Harry's abilities always helped get pass rates up. Harry raised an eyebrow at Albus, "I suppose you've already spoken to Hermione," he said.

"Well, yes," admitted Dumbledore. "I thought I'd best check first."

The extra afternoons were devoted to individual students and small groups of students, who were having trouble with certain of their subjects. Harry was a brilliant teacher, who had a real knack for sharing his knowledge. And the students almost universally adored him. But after the first week, Harry asked for a minor modification to the workload allocated to him - no girls on their own, there had always to be two or more. He needed protection again, it seemed.

Harry saw quite a lot of Julia and of Adam these days. Quite often he arranged to meet them after lessons, always separately. He knew how they felt about each other. Julia was in fifth year, but she was a top student, and therefore never appeared in Harry's remedial classes.

The last Quidditch match of the season was coming up. Harry had avoided the previous matches. He knew that he became too involved in them, and probably would have become over-tired. But Ginny was going to join him, leaving the children at home, and if he could not apparate himself, she would be there. Ginny, too, loved Quidditch, and had played for Gryffindor when she was at school.

As Harry knew he would, he became thoroughly involved in the game, cheering on the players with the best of them. He and Ginny had been tempted to put on Gryffindor scarves, but Harry remembered that he had a child in Slytherin, and Adam was in Ravenclaw. They'd best remain neutral.

The game ended as the seekers raced neck and neck for the snitch, and the Ravenclaw player caught it. Ginny looked at her husband. His face was still marked with hollow cheeks, but the eyes were alight with excitement and pleasure. This husband of hers might be a lot of trouble, she thought, but he was definitely worth it.

Harry felt wonderful, full of energy and strength. But he saw Dumbledore's stern eye on him, and said to Ginny, "I suppose I'd best get clearance from Poppy." He still preferred to apparate himself, he didn't really like being a passenger, although he put up with it when he had to. And if Poppy did not give him his clearance, he had every intention of describing the game to her, play by play - he knew she was not interested in Quidditch!

But when they went to the hospital wing, they found Madam Pomfrey quite distracted. It seemed that a duel had got out of hand, and several students were waiting for attention, some with antlers, some with locked legs, and some with enormous festering boils all over their faces. There was a Quidditch casualty, too.

Harry thought he recognised one of the curses, it was a skin disease curse, that came up routinely in his sessions with Hermione, fairly easy to inflict, but difficult to remove. He thought that he would wait and make sure that Poppy had no trouble, before he left.

So he and Ginny stood at the window, looking out over the sunset. It was in this hospital ward that Ginny had abruptly told him that they were getting married, leaving him staggering, literally. He reminded her of that, and she gave his hand a squeeze. Their love was as strong as ever, the electricity between them always quick to light. He regretted deciding to wait for Poppy. It was too late to go to their grove of trees, and the children would all be home and wanting attention, but there was his bedroom here, and they had made no promises as to when they would be back.

The nurse dealt with most of the spell cases without trouble, and, as Harry had anticipated, could not manage the skin disease. But there was the famous Harry Potter, just at the far end of the room. She had help ready at hand. She remembered what Harry had told her, though, that the Ministry insisted on an observer, as well as a mediwizard, and rejected Harry's offer to fix the student.

"No-one need know," said Harry, very quietly, "I can fix him without anybody seeing anything."

Poppy was tempted, but finally said that she'd better not.

"Well, book him into Hermione's session, Monday if you like. Say that Harry said," and added, "I'm just here for a clearance before I go home."

Madam Pomfrey took out the monitor, taking only a moment to do the readings, and giving Harry a nod.

Ginny stopped her, and said, curiously, "Can I see?"

Harry blushed. The monitor told too much, it was like being stripped naked, except that he never minded being naked with his wife. The readings were higher again, Ginny saw, and reminded Harry that at one stage the LV reading had been only 1 or 2. He had come a long way. But Harry was uncomfortable now.

Ginny had not forgotten the suggestion to go to Harry's room for a while, although Harry had been put off. He still disliked having his health discussed. Ginny found it not too much effort to re-ignite the spark.

_**x**_

Severus Snape and Harry Potter were strolling in the grounds. Exams were over, but results were not yet officially out. Snape had not often spoke to Harry about his daughter, but now he was saying that her results had been extremely good, that her talents were extraordinary. How Harry must be so proud of her.

Harry agreed that, of course, he was very proud, inwardly with some reservations. He had been long convinced that his disquiet earlier in the year had been something to do with Julia. He knew to pay attention to his feelings, whether or not they were based on any evidence.

Julia bore herself with reserved dignity, performed her prefect's duties with an apparently responsible attitude, and if some of the students knew a different side to her, she was respected enough that her reputation had never suffered.

Harry asked about Adam, but Snape surprised him. "Adam who?"

"Adam Bourne, my stepson," said Harry.

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten. Yes, he's a good student, too," but Harry suspected that he was trying to remember just exactly who Adam Bourne was.

Adam's results were out before the end of the year, and they were excellent. Adam was a very intelligent boy. He was also quiet, serious and responsible. Harry never had to worry about Adam.

But when he came across Julia smiling up at his friend, he worried. Snape had never married, was nearly seventy by this time, but Snape was feeling Julia's attraction, and Harry acutely did not want his friend to fall under her spell. This time, he intervened, crossing to the pair, and saying warningly, "Julia!"

Julia looked at him resentfully. She had decided that it would be a good idea to enslave her House Master, and she knew she was making speedy progress, in spite of what she thought of as Snape's advanced age.

Snape , too, looked at Harry with some irritation, but made no comment, and turned to walk with Harry.

"She's a very beautiful girl," Snape commented, giving Harry an opening.

"Yes, she is," he said, "Sometimes I think she's got some Veela in her, she seems to be able to have any man she chooses running after her!"

Snape was a very intelligent man, comprehended the warning, watched Julia as a good-looking seventh year approached her, looking rather like a hopeful puppy dog, and was armed against her.

Dumbledore spoke to Harry about Julia, too. "She seems to have settled down. I think she'll be fine."

"I hope so," said Harry, some doubt in his voice. But then he was laughing. "Remember Fred and George Weasley?"

"I do, indeed," said Dumbledore.

"My twins are very lively, too, and there's another even more so, their cousin Gemme, another redhead just the same age. There'll be interesting times here in a couple of years," and he proceeded to tell Dumbledore about the last time that Gemme had visited. A wand had been 'borrowed,' and a worker's cottage blown up, luckily an unoccupied cottage.

Since the increase in his hours, Harry was now routinely at school when the monthly full staff meetings were held. At one of them, it was mentioned that some library books were missing from the restricted section of the library, books on poisons. He felt a chill, but no-one seemed to think a full search warranted.

Harry would not normally, either. Such a mass invasion of privacy was unethical, he felt, but he would have quite liked to search Julia's trunk.

Julia continued to spend time with Harry, apparently perfectly comfortable. He thought that until she started avoiding him again, he really should not spoil things by worrying. For Harry these days felt healthy and well. There was one afternoon after lessons, that he spent a couple of hours doing acrobatics on his broomstick, at the breakneck speed he had always enjoyed. Unfortunately, he was still not as well as he believed himself to be, and Dumbledore was waiting as he came to the ground, and escorted him firmly to Madam Pomfrey for a clearance. To Harry's annoyed disbelief, he was grounded again, the first time for months.

Hermione was very pleased with Harry these days. His weight had continued its gradual climb, until now he just looked thin, rather than pathetic. The LV measure now read 60, meaning, in very general terms, that he was about two thirds as healthy as a normal person and he was acting as if he had energy to spare. She had increased the numbers of patients in his spell-breaking sessions to eight, and when one day, he had already done a difficult patient, she took her reading, and when he struck another, she allowed him to go ahead without comment. She did take another reading at the end of the session, but said nothing, and Harry didn't query her. He apparated home.

He'd finally managed to catch up with his waiting list, and Hermione had begun to think about opening appointments for patients from overseas again, but was going to consult Harry first. The Ministry for Magic very much liked overseas patients. Not only did they charge the Ministry of the country concerned rather more than Harry was paid, but having a wizard at their call who could do things no-one else could do, was important to the politicians of the Ministry. It was prestige, and politicians lap up prestige.

Harry attended the End of Year feast at Hogwarts that year. He was a teacher at the school, and he felt that it was his place as well as his pleasure. Slytherin won the house cup for the fifth year running, mostly because so many of the teachers, especially the men, were apt to generously award points to Julia Moore. So the Great Hall was decorated in green, the images of snakes prominent.

***chapter end***


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling_.

_Chapter 15, final chapter: _

Two weeks into the school holidays, Julia left the Moores, and joined Harry at his place. There was a certain divorcee very much looking forward to her visit, and now that she was sixteen, it was even legal.

For a potential dark witch, delving in poisons, and dark magic, Julia was very good company. Harry regarded her with distrust, but he loved her still, and enjoyed having her with him.

There were some invitations that year for his daughter. One was to a cocktail party at the Malfoy mansion. Harry and Ginny were dubious, the Malfoys did not have a good reputation, and they felt that Julia should not have anything to further tip her away from respectability. They were invited, too, but Julia had her own separate invitation.

Julia had such potential. The OWL results arrived the same day as the invitations. In every subject, she had scored extremely highly, to no-one's real surprise. As for ambition, she still spoke only of maybe joining the Ministry when she left school.

In the end, Harry agreed that they would attend, and that they would take Julia.

Draco's son was at the party, and as he didn't go to Hogwarts, Julia had not met him before. Draco's son was called Lucius, after his grandfather. Draco's son was tall, blonde, and held himself with an air of arrogance. Julia and young Lucius regarded each other with considerable interest, before strolling off together.

Draco was standing next to Harry, and watched them with a satisfied smile on his face.

"She's only a halfblood, you know," said Harry, "And I thought your family inclined to blondes."

"Usually," said Draco smoothly, "But your daughter is exceptional."

Harry was wishing they had never brought Julia to the Malfoy house, and not just because of Julia. He disliked many of the people he found there, and he was feeling as if he were being measured up as potential prey. He had shaken hands with people there that he suspected he might have met before, possibly when they were wearing masks, and Draco introduced him to a man called Smith-Burton, who sent prickles up and down his spine. The man had only stayed near him a moment, but Harry knew that he was being scrutinised.

Within half an hour of arrival, Harry was very nervous, had his back to the wall, and his eyes were flicking warily over the company. In the end, he decided being polite was not important, and insisted they leave. Ginny collected Julia, who was at first inclined to object, but Ginny tolerated no argument. If Harry thought they were in danger here, he was probably right. Harry, Ginny and Julia Moore left the party almost before it had begun.

Harry relaxed as soon as he arrived home. He still never apparated with a passenger, and Ginny had taken Julia. Julia was angry with them for taking her away from the party so soon, and went to her bedroom, seething. A polite apology was sent to Draco the next day, using the obvious excuse of Harry's poor health.

That night, Ginny reached over automatically, murmuring meaningless soothing words as her husband struggled in the grip of a nightmare. But instead of settling down again, Harry wrenched himself out of bed, away from her, shaking and white faced, flooding the room with light as he did.

Ginny sat up, too, a bit shocked, and he immediately apologised, coming back to sit next to her. She held him close, feeling his trembling slowly calm. They lay down again, holding each other, and neither was asleep when Harry said, "I know when I've seen him before. Andrew Smith-Burton, he was there at the main gate of Hogwarts when I was so sick and they sent me back to you. He was just watching, though."

The Hogwarts letters arrived a few days later, and both Adam and Julia needed new textbooks, and some other supplies from Diagon Alley. Harry wished that he could take either Adam or Julia as a passenger, but while he acted as if he was totally healthy in every other area, he still did not consider apparating with a passenger. It was a difficult skill, and few people could do it aside from trained aurors, but Ron had long ago taught both Hermione and Harry. Most families with children used floo powder, but, for security reasons, Harry had never had his home connected to the floo network. It was eventually decided that Adam and Julia would just have to make separate trips.

Ginny took Adam the following day, purchasing what was needed without incident. She also bought most of what Julia needed. But Julia had to be fitted for new robes, and besides, she wanted the treat of the visit to the colourful alley.

Harry was to do that with her, although Ginny would have to bring her. Harry enjoyed the company of Julia, while Ginny never had managed to overcome her dislike of the girl who had nearly killed her husband, and so badly damaged his health. Julia enjoyed being with her famous father, and may have had some affection for him. With this unusual girl, it was hard to tell.

Wednesday, Harry would be going to do his spell-breaking stint, and was to meet Julia afterward at the robe makers.

When Harry finished his healing jobs, he visited the robe makers, but Julia was not yet finished being fitted, and Harry leaned against the wall outside the shop, as he waited. Aurors started appearing close by, one that he knew as Trevor Jackson, and also Jebedee Shacklebolt, who had taken Harry to Hermione's place some months before.

Harry nodded to them in recognition, but they were still firmly on duty, and while they acknowledged his greeting, they didn't approach, but only watched alertly from their chosen nearby vantage points.

Julia put her head out the door, and called to Harry, and he joined her inside the shop. Julia had found some very beautiful and very expensive material, and wanted a new set of dress robes.

Harry agreed, and resumed his place outside, starting to think that he was staying too long in the one place. He was tempted to suddenly dive for his wand, which would probably bring another couple of aurors. He didn't really have any sense of danger though. It was just mischief.

At length, Julia emerged from the shop, and both Trevor and Jebedee forgot what they were supposed to be doing, and stared at the radiant young woman. There were a lot of people in Diagon Alley that day, and Harry was amused that he was ignored for a change, often totally unrecognised, as people stopped to stare at Julia.

Julia appeared unmoved, smiling remotely at a few people she recognised, but Harry had the feeling that, underneath, she was thoroughly enjoying the interest and admiration she aroused

The next stop Julia wanted to make was to the Joke Shop, so Harry moved off back the way he had come, Julia beside him. Trevor and Jebedee had remembered what they were there for now, and were alert for any possible attacks.

Inside the shop, Harry chatted to Fred and George, who were both there that day, while Julia inspected the goods on sale, especially those that she knew Harry had invented. The complicated but useless silver desk gadget had been a big seller, and George asked Harry to organise some more.

Harry stopped in briefly to the bookstore, making a couple of purchases, and arranging the books to be delivered as usual, but now he knew it was time to be going. He wasn't even planning on an ice-cream.

Julia objected, and as Harry didn't really have any sense of danger yet, he allowed his daughter to persuade him just to visit the magical creatures shop before they left. Harry had rarely visited this shop, and was enjoying himself as they inspected the strange creatures on display.

Julia was animated and charming, drawing all eyes.

No-one was looking at Harry. And as they left, still only a few steps from the shop, no-one but Julia saw the green streak of light hurtling toward his back.

Julia started to scream, as she threw herself behind her father. The scream was cut short. Julia was dead, and Harry cried out in anguish as he dropped to his knees beside her, gathering up head and shoulders of the daughter he had loved. But his head turned in the direction of the disapparation crack he had heard, and he concentrated. Harry Potter squeezed with his mind, and John Dawlish, who had just apparated back into the Ministry of Magic, dropped to the floor, as dead as Julia.

Harry Potter killed, knew that he killed, but that was already in the past. He still held cradled the head and shoulders of the girl he had loved, the girl who had tried to kill him, the girl of such extraordinary potential. Julia Moore was dead, and the potential would never be realised.

Harry's head was bent, he was crying, tears wetting the clothing of the dead girl he cradled to his chest. Spectators stared. Photographers took their pictures.

The aurors sent their messages, and more aurors started appearing. John Dawlish was not among them. There was another fuss going on in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, where Dawlish had so suddenly dropped dead. Harry Potter would never be blamed for this death. It was impossible to follow someone who had disapparated, and it was impossible to kill from a distance. It was impossible, therefore, that Harry Potter had killed John Dawlish.

Word spread, and Ginny came to Harry, kneeling beside him as he cried. Jebedee was there, too.

"Let us have her," the auror said, "We will look after her."

Harry finally looked up. "No, I'm taking her home." And he stood, lifting his daughter in his arms, and silently vanished.

Ginny stood, too, and also disapparated, finding him at home, laying his daughter down gently on her bed, and arranging her limbs. Julia had always been tidy...

_**x**_

Julia's funeral was held three days later. Edward and Rachel Moore buried their daughter in the muggle cemetery of the town where they lived, the same town where, years before, Harry had met Rachel at the hairdressers. Edward and Rachel were always Julia's real parents, irrespective of genetics. They grieved for their daughter. They may have been frightened of Julia, but she was their daughter, and when she was small, she had been their most precious joy. Julia Moore was deeply and sincerely mourned.

Julia was a witch, and was buried with her wand in her hand, as is the custom for witches and wizards.

It was a small funeral, those men who lived close and had known Julia, thought it advisable to discreetly stay home. Julia's Uncle Harry was there, in a muggle suit - a thin man, with hollow cheeks, and long black hair.

In the end, Julia had made her choice. She had thrown away her life to save the life she had so nearly taken.

_**x**_

Harry Potter continued his slow recovery. Two years later, Hermione's treasured monitor finally read 95, effectively normal readings, and, to Harry's relief, his healer and friend had no further excuse for its use. His body had become strong and muscular again, his overflowing energy returned, but he never lost the hollow cheeks that marked his ordeal, and he was always just a touch thinner than he had been once. Julia had left her mark.

_**x**_

_The end_.


End file.
